#so now they are VERY short (had to cut them) and i painted a few coats of clear nail polish so hopefully they won’t break

[permanentreverie]

a moment of joy in days of tired darkness!!!

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … NANAMI KENTO & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 429k views

⁺ 🧃　 ♡ ₊﹒ ⌣

꩜: actor!nanami x actress!reader

⤷ a short compilation of y/n & nanami moments!

sfw, fluff, accidental kisses, ooc nanami kinda

. art credits to @/osusiudon on twitter

masterlists

*

౨ৎ first clip

“whereee is nanamiiii?” you whine, filming yourself as you walk around the set, trying to find your favourite cast member. you walk through a door. “nanamiii-oh there he is..”

you look surprised and then you tell the camera, “shhhh..nanami is asleep..”

you tiptoe towards where he lays passed out on a couch with his costume goggles right beside him. you turn the camera around to face nanami, his mouth agape as little snores passed through.

“awwww.. he looks so cute..”

you put the camera close to his face, making nanami look funny. “haha..i’m so keeping this-”

nanami snorts suddenly and shifts in a rapid movement, shocking you and making you drop your phone on his poor face.

“ahh!” you cry. fumbling ensues before you get your camera upright again, pointing it at a now awake, disappointed looking nanami, sitting up on the couch as he stares at you blankly. his hair is messy, tie askew and his eyes tired.

“sorry nanami…did i wake you??”

“…”

“…”

nanami sighs and rubs his eyes. “i don’t know _____. did you barge in here, record me and drop your phone on my face?”

“…oops?”

nanami stares at you some more and then you pat his head in apology.

“sorry, nanamin…”

he sighs again. “why are you like this…”

౨ৎ second clip

the paparazzi secretly filmed you and nanami exiting a store (which they had followed you both to). now of course, fans criticised said paparazzi, but after seeing the video themselves…they couldn’t be all that sad about it.

you and nanami walk out of the automatic doors, arms linked and nanami carries the shopping bag.

you’re eating your little treat, strolling with nanami to the sidewalk when he points to your shoes, noticing that your laces are undone.

he speaks and you just shrug, continuing to eat, uncaring of your unlaced shoes that are a hazard.

nanami has you hold the grocery bag temporarily and then kneels down and ties your laces securely, all the while you chew on your food and smile down at him.

he stands up and takes the bag from you to carry once more. you inaudibly talk before linking arms with him again and resting your head on his shoulder while you both walk away.

౨ৎ third clip

the director yells cut and you are immediately running towards nanami and throwing your arms around his shirtless waist, careful to avoid the very intricate, realistic body paint covering half of his body.

“nanami! please don’t dieeeee!” you cry, looking up at him, “who’s going to be my emotional support actor?”

nanami huffs and pats your back, “_____…i won’t disappear..i’ll still be on the set…”

“it’s not the same!” you grumble into his chest. “it’s like you died for real!”

“no it’s not. i’ll visit everyday until this series ends.”

“really?” you look up at him, eyes glossy, “you better not be lying. promise?”

“yes, i promise.” he sighs fondly.

“okay..”

still hugging him, you turn to look at the camera and blatantly check out his shredded torso and thick, strong arms. nanami just stands there, confused.

you rest your head on one of his pecs, looking at the camera and smiling. “i get to do this everyday, you know.”

nanami scoffs and shakes his head at you. you are unbelievable.

౨ৎ fourth clip

you and the a few members of the cast of jujutsu kaisen had agreed to play a game of “silent library”for charity and nanami had agreed to play too, which shocked both the cast and the fans considering nanami rarely participated in games like this.

nanami has struck luck so far but it runs out on the sixth round.

the cards are handed out and suspense rises when you all quickly flip them over.

you groan out loud before slapping a hand over your mouth when you see that you’ve received the death card.

looking around, you notice that nanami and gojo also share the same card, and you point at them confused, while the members who are safe sigh in relief and thank god.

nanami closes his eyes and gojo slumps in his chair dramatically, making a weak noise in his mouth. you snort. you’re quickly hushed.

the name of the game is presented, “suck and blow”, and poorly stifled chuckles ring around the room. you rub your eyes, already dreading what’s about to come.

gojo eyes you, making a come hither motion with his long finger and swear at him silently. nanami is silent and looks between the two of you blankly.

the aim of the game? all three players must pass plastic card between them with only their lips.

your head falls onto the table, gojo is grinning and nanami is, as always, sighing.

the three of you sit on stools, with yourself insisting on being in the middle.

“i could’ve sworn i’ve had a dream just like this…” gojo whispers and nanami is leaning all the way around to smack the back of his head. gojo gasps and utahime scolds at him to shut his mouth.

the plastic card is given to gojo and the timer begins. he sucks it to his lips, cheeks hollow and he looked very stupid. gojo grabs your head and presses the card to your lips, making it seem like you are both kissing. you grunt and begin smacking the side of his face. suppressed laughter can be heard around you as you forcefully pull away from gojo.

you purse your lips, holding the plastic card on them as best as you can and turning to face nanami. he leans in, ready to get this over with.

it happened so fast.

nanami’s face is close to yours as you move to transfer the plastic card to his lips..and then the card falls.

it falls and you’re kissing nanami for half a second.

you gasp and pull back, embarrassed and covering your face.

you hear a squeal, a loud gasp and shocked laughter as you drown in shame. nanami sits there, fiddling, not knowing what to do with his hands and his face is clearly pink.

gojo teases you both to no end and the timer is already up.

it’s safe to say you all lost that round.

౨ৎ fifth clip

nanami is forced to go on a talk show (as he claims his manager made him do it ).

his responses are perfect and polite - nanami clearly has some sort of media training or an upper class background of some sort. it’s like nothing could catch him off guard whatsoever.

nanami is talking and then, the host interrupts. “are you and _____ dating?”

the audience chuckles and nanami is caught off guard. “wh-what?” nanami breathes out, a blush rising from his neck to his cheeks. “what?”

“are you and _____ dating?”

“no…” nanami clears his throat, gulping, “no of course not…”

“what do you mean “of course not?” do you not like _____?”

“what? of course i like-” nanami cuts himself off with a deep sigh and the crowd laughs at his embarrassment and fluster. “_____…_____ is a lovely woman, she’s a respected colleague, a valued friend, she’s-”

“well since you like her so much, let’s bring her out!” the host flings his arm out in the direction of the entrance stairway, “give a warm welcome to _____!”

“?”

the crowd is screaming as you walk in, waving at them with a warm smile on your face and sit next to nanami.

nanami looks at you, face red. “i-”

“don’t let him stop you.” you say, referring to the host’s interruption and the cheers erupting from the sea of people. “keep talking about me!”

nanami sighs. “shit…”

౨ৎ sixth clip

you’re being interviewed on the red carpet by a boisterous, joyful middle aged lady who asks you many questions, one of them being, “fuck, marry, kill”.

“okay fuck, marry, kill with getou suguru, nanami kento and gojo sa-”

“easy,” you cut in, not even hearing the rest of the question, “fuck getou, marry nanami and kill gojo. easiest question i’ve had so far!”

on the other end of the carpet, nanami is being asked the same questions except with actresses, one of them being you.

“fuck marry kill - utahime iori, _____ or shoko ieiri?!”

“marry _____, fuck utahime and kill shoko. goodnight.” he abruptly walks away, not even waiting for the interviewer to respond and leaves them flabbergasted.

*

a/n: feel like i rambled a lot in this one..oh well. also i’m not accepting requests for actor!nanami right now🤗🩷

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[lafleshlumpeater]

Could you please do a Luke x sunshine reader where Luke asks the reader on a date, and they agreed. Then, when he comes to pick them up at her cabin, their siblings interrogate him and threaten him a little if he hurts their sibling.

I hope you’re okay with child of aphrodite reader<3

Warnings: fem!reader, teasing, very slightly suggestive comment- lmk if there’s anything else<3

luke castellan masterlist

Luke didn’t know whether to be nervous or slightly flattered that he was receiving looks from the window which were impossible to ignore.

Dressed in an unbuttoned blue flannel which he’d borrowed from one of his siblings and a plain white t- shirt underneath, he wonders whether he should have opted for something more formal instead when he sees slightly mocking smirks and giggles from your fashion expert siblings.

Or maybe it was too formal.

He was unsure as to which way round he had it wrong.

And then there were the flowers. What would be more romantic, fancy, cellophane- wrapped roses or something simpler with just a satin bow? After consulting Katie Gardner, his brother’s girlfriend, about his dilemma she had snipped off some lush, crimson roses for him so the stems were short and wrapped around with a thin piece of white ribbon. Only now he realised how stupid he probably looked, a small gift so classy and somewhat luxurious and in an attire so casual.

It wasn’t an everyday occurrence for Luke Castellan to feel hot all over and want the ground to swallow him whole, but there were few and rare occurrences. Like the first time he had been at camp he had been wandering aimlessly to find where everyone was getting their food from (why had no- one thought to tell him that all he had to do was think about the food he wanted?), or when he had somehow managed to singe some of his hair off that one time he was in the Hephaestus cabin since they were in the same team as him for capture the flag (he had told them the flamethrowers were too much for their chariot) and, well, like now.

Just as he was weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of knocking on the cabin and asking for you (he’d be able to escape the taunting laughter sooner, but the overpowering smell of all the cosmetics and perfumes gave him a headache) the door finally swung open and oh if his heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles an hour before it definitely was now.

You were dressed in a sundress of pure white, that was snatched in places and hung loose in others perfectly. Your skin was smooth and glassy, reflecting the glow of the white fabric. Lips curled upwards into an easygoing smile, painted a pretty bubblegum pink colour Luke often associated with your personality. Two tendrils of hair carelessly free from the confines of the simple yet elegant style of your hair framing your face perfectly- the very embodiment of Aphrodite’s kin.

It was only when you giggle a small “Hi,” that Luke realises his jaw is slack, lips slightly parted. He clears his throat, standing up straighter and hand running through his hair.

“Hey,” he stammers. “You look…”

“Oi, loverboy!” His flustered compliment is cut- off with a shout from the open cabin window. His head whips towards the sound, slightly miffed that the moment was interrupted.

Mitchell. One of your brothers.

“Treat her well, alright?”, the smug boy yells, self- satisfaction written all over his face. “And no touchy- touchy business.”

Luke’s half- tempted to grab your hand and run away from the teasing. “Uh, you-”

“Yeah, what he said! Treat her well!” Lacy’s head pops out next to her brother’s, nails half- painted where they grip the window frame. “And be back before eight, okay? We have a girls’ night planned! No forgetting, or I swear I will interrupt whatever frisky business-”

“Okay, okay!” You interrupt, vivacious laughter escaping your throat. “That’s enough, I think we get the message.” You slip your delicate hand into his, looking up at him through long eyelashes. “Right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke mutters with an abashed smile, relieved to be saved from the incessant torture and just wanting to get to the destination of your date as soon as possible. Just as shyly, he holds the flowers out to you, awaiting your approval.

You take them. “For me? They’re so lovely.” You inhale them, eyes fluttering closed at the fragrance. “Thanks, so much!” You reach up on tiptoes, even on white heels, and quickly kiss his cheek.

As the two of you walk away, hand in hand, Luke curses at the way his cheeks flush at the titters and hollers of your siblings under his breath.

Not proofread- pls lmk if there's any mistake/it doesn’t make sense

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[another-lost-mc]

diff anon than the og perv mc and levi anon but id like to build off it: mc purposely setting themselves up for easy panty shots and of course levi cant resist snapping the pic. then one day mc bends over in front of levi in their skirt and they arent wearing underwear and levi short circuits

a/n: I must be in a mood 'cause I ran off with that idea.

levi x gn!reader | nsfw | mdni | 1.2k words

cw: reader in various types of clothing (skirt, panties, sleep/loungewear). flashing, taking dirty pics/videos (with consent but they're both pretending otherwise). mentions of masturbation, cum marking, voyeuristic behaviour (both).

Neither of you are very subtle about what's going on when Levi invites you to hang out in his room. He fidgets with his D.D.D. nervously and glances at you from the corner of his eye. He wants to be ready in case he gets lucky with another show you accidentally (to his knowledge) put on for him.

You have no reason to be wearing skirts that short, and you should know better than to bend over with or without anything else underneath. It's too tempting to resist though. You know he likes it, and he might pretend to look away while your eyes are on him, but he drops the ruse as soon as you look elsewhere.

Even if the item you drop ends up at his feet, he doesn't pick it up for you. He knows you're going to slide off the sofa and bend over directly in front of him to get it yourself, even if you could reach it from where you're sitting.

(You used to stay sitting at first so you had an excuse to lean into his body and press your chest against him, but that got boring after a while - it's too hard to feel his cock through those thick pants he wears.)

For some reason, you're so clumsy when you wear those skimpy little outfits for him. He can't see the grin spreading across your face while he fumbles with his D.D.D. behind you. Sometimes he loses his grip on it with those sweaty fingers of his, but you can be patient. You give him all the time in the world he needs to get his camera app open and ready; you take forever to pick up whatever it was you bent over to reach. It's almost like you have butterfingers too. Oops! You can't seem to get a good grip on it either.

What a shame.

Besides, you'd hate to cut this little show of yours too short. How else will he get a good photo if you're moving around too much? That would leave your thighs and the swell of your ass far too blurry for him to appreciate later, and you wouldn't want that. There should be absolutely no doubt in his mind whose panty shots he's jerking off to later that night.

When you bend over in front of him, you can't help but wiggle your hips a little bit, as if you're trying to entice him to chase after you like a toy. It's frustrating that he's so content to look (and photograph and film) but not touch. Eventually you stand upright and turn around, pretending to tug down that wretched skirt of yours that just won't stay in place. You don't mention the pillow that's now laid across his lap and hiding his erection from view. His blown-black pupils and sharp, panted breaths are proof that he enjoyed himself.

Levi's still hard by the time you leave his room and sometimes he leans against the door in an urgent rush to touch himself. He comes with his D.D.D. in one hand and his cock in the other while he imagines what your bare ass would look like covered in his pearly-white release. It would look nicer than the way it looks on his fingers, he thinks. Fucking you once or twice wouldn't be enough and he has so much he wants to give. He wants to drain his balls inside you and all over you. If he fucks you from behind, he'll pull out and paint your skin with his cum at least once. It would be nice and warm and sticky, oozing between your cheeks and onto the little puckered rim between them.

A few more days of this little game might be the push he needs to indulge in the sweet treat you purposefully dangle in front of him.

Or maybe you're not the skirt-wearing type at all. It's a good thing loungewear can be just as teasing in its own ways.

There's a reason you keep all your threadbare shirts and sleep shorts kicking around when most people would've trashed them by now. The sleeveless shirt you wear to bed is practically see-through and it's so obvious when your nipples harden as your body adjusts to the cool temperature of his bedroom.

Your sleep shorts hang deliciously low on your hips, or perhaps they're a bit too tight. You lay on your belly and watch TV on the floor while Levi stares at you from the sofa; the thin material tightens when you squirm around and get comfy. He can tell by the way the material rides up your thighs and wedges between your legs that you're not wearing anything underneath them. It would be easy to pin you down and squeeze the soft, doughy flesh you're more than happy to put on display for him. He palms his cock through his pants when his mind wanders from whatever movie he's pretending to watch, and you pretend you can't see his reflection on the TV while he does it.

Late-night visits to Levi's room are always fun too. It requires a little pre-planning and a tiny lie, but it works flawlessly every time. When you show up at his door in the middle of the night, claiming you left something in his room by accident, he steps aside without protest. Your housecoat is tied loosely around your waist and he knows that's all you're wearing. The fabric swishes playfully around your legs when you walk - it's such a fucking tease. You flash him with glimpses of your bare legs and thighs, and if he's lucky, a little bit more too.

Sometimes he catches a whiff of something delicious in the air as you walk past him; you smell musky and sensual. He can only imagine what you were doing before you came to see him. The image of you laying naked between your sheets, with nothing but your hand and modest collection of toys to keep you company, flickers across his mind. His voice cracks when he wishes you goodnight; his throat is unbearably dry all of a sudden.

It occurs to him later that you probably didn't even wash your hands before you came to see him, did you?

(Of course you didn't. How else would you leave little traces of yourself behind for him to sniff out and taste later?)

With your task complete, you leave his room and wonder how long you'll have to wait for him to follow you down those creaky steps. You're not as sensitive now; you can go another round or two if you know he's listening.

As it turns out, he's not that patient and you don't have to wait very long at all. Before Levi spits in his hand and strokes his cock with his ear pressed against your door, losing himself quickly to the building heat in his guts, he reminds himself to come back and smell your sheets tomorrow if you won't be home to catch him.

read more: pervy!mc x pervy!levi (part one) | leviathan masterlist

[tojisbbg]

𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆!

❝but, you’re my baby, and i love you so much!❞  

♡ rin itoshi ♡

a/n: i kept getting tiktoks on my fyp of this trend and i couldn’t help but think of him. 

content: rin itoshi x reader, established relationship, gentlelover!rin, reader is a little mean, very fluffy, kinda short, not grammatically checked. 

---

it was almost nine and you were stressed. 

every little thing in this entire world was pissing you off because you couldn’t finish this stupid fucking project your professor decided to assign you this morning. to make things even better, it’s due before the beginning of class the next morning and it’s group work. 

surprise, surprise! your group mates are shit and the responsibility of the entire project was now shoved up your ass. 

how beautiful. 

you were barely finished with the other assignments that you received from your other classes, which meant that you’d have to pull another all-nighter. 

who the absolute fuck told you that it got better in college? ‘cause right now you want to kill yourself. 

you were trying to reach over to grab your binder when suddenly your hand knocked over the cup of coffee you had on your side. you gasped as your eyes widened.

it spilled all over your laptop. 

“no, no, no!! fuck.” you panicked, quickly ripping a bunch of tissue to wipe the liquid away without getting it further into your device. and just because god loves you so much, your phone began to buzz. 

you groaned in annoyance, leaning over to swipe the decline button. you upsettingly sighed, seeing that your laptop was already starting to malfunction, which meant that you were screwed. 

“ugh, what the fuck, man. i’m gonna end my life, i swear.” you grumbled to yourself. your phone began to ring again and your face had a scowl painted on it as you roughly grabbed the small device, swiping green. 

“y/n?” the familiar voice on the other end called out as you received the call. 

“yes, yes, what is it rin? i’m really busy right now and your constant calling is wasting my time. couldn’t you have just texted me instead?” you snapped at him, making him become silent for a few seconds and he was trying to process what the hell was going on.  

“are you okay? you seem upset.” rin responded in a worry tone, making you roll your eyes.

“no, rin. i’m actually so happy right now that i can die. whatever, why did you call?” you decided to cut to the chase, figuring that it was no use of getting too distracted right now. 

“it’s fine, i’ll see you at home.” he shortly said before hanging up, leaving you with your mouth open. 

“then what the fuck was the reason for calling me?!” you yelled at your screen, which was pointless because your lover wasn’t on the other line. you angrily slammed your phone on the table before going back to your mission of trying to revive your laptop. 

about thirty minutes has passed and you gave up on your laptop, deciding to finish your paper assignments first and then try again later. you furiously scribbled writing on your assignments, your handwriting progressively getting sloppier and uglier as you bullshitted them. 

you no longer cared if your work was absolute doodoo, you just wanted to get it done and over with. so invested in your work, you didn’t even notice when rin slipped inside your shared apartment. 

he usually had soccer practice which ended later on the day during the weekdays. the 6′1 striker entered the kitchen, rummaging through some things before his footsteps came towards where you sat.  

“this shitty ass laptop still won’t work!” you whined, banging your fists on the keyboard in frustration as you felt like ripping your hair out. 

rin pulled the chair next to you out so that he could sit down and watch his very stressed and mad girlfriend work. 

“wanna talk about it, baby?” rin finally got the courage to break the thick silence that was fogging up the entire room. 

“no.” you sharply answered back, your tone nearly slicing his heart. 

“you sure? taking a small break wouldn’t hurt.” he softly suggested, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. for some odd reason, his persistence was getting on your nerves and you would then do something that you knew you’d instantly regret if not now then later. 

you angrily shoved off his hand, making rin look at you with a shocked and confused face at your unusual behavior. 

“for fucks sake, leave me alone! can’t you see that i’m trying to finish my work? you don’t have to worry about college like i do because you have your entire future set by kicking a stupid ball. i don’t! so just fucking go, rin!” you yelled at him, watching his face fall as he stood up from his chair. suddenly, the words on your tongue died down, your throat becoming dry. 

fuck. 

you knew you messed up real bad, but the damage has already been done. rin let out a heavy sigh before looking down at you with sad eyes. 

“okay, i’ll stop bugging you. also, your laptop most likely won’t turn back on, so stop wasting your time on bringing something back after destroying it. just use mine, it’s in my duffle bag.” rin dryly spoke before turning his heels, walking towards your shared bedroom before you heard the slam of the door shutting, making you flinch. 

“fuck you professor, i hope your wife leaves your for another man.” you swore under your breath, closing the lid of your dead laptop. you walked towards the sofa where rin’s duffle bag was, opening it to pull out his laptop for your use. 

you walked back to your spot, turning on his device to begin working. it was almost midnight, so, if god was on your side then you could hopefully finish the project by two in the morning. 

as soon as the laptop turned on, the first thing you were met with was his wallpaper which was set as a collage of your photos. you couldn’t help but take in a few minutes to stare at it, and as each minute passed, your heart began to ache even more. 

you knew that rin didn’t deserve to hear those words, but you couldn’t stop yourself from saying those awful things to him in the heat of the moment. shaking your head to shoo those distracting thoughts away, you retracted your focus back onto your project. 

---

you finished typing the last word on the report and you could almost shed happy tears. you were finally done with this shit, your hands shaking and your eyes begging to close. without hesitation, you submitted the work. who cares about checking for grammar issues when your soft bed was calling out for your ass. 

“not bad, it’s only one-thirty. hm, i guess i should eat before going to sleep since i’m kinda hungry.” you talked to yourself, shutting off rin’s laptop as you lazily made your way to the kitchen to fix yourself up some instant ramen. 

your eyes fell on the white plastic bag on the kitchen counter, an eyebrow cocking upwards as you curiously opened the bag. you gasped as you realized that it was your favorite takeout. 

“oh my god, i’m such a piece of shit.” you whispered, head hanging low as you thanked the heavens for blessing your with such a loving and kind boyfriend whom you didn’t deserve at all 

you eagerly reheated up the food in the microwave before speed walking back to the dining table. you settled your food down on the table, allowing it to cool while your pack your bag and put rin’s laptop on charge so that he could use it for his classes tomorrow. 

after eating and cleaning up, you decided to skip your usual night routine since you were pretty tired. you quickly brushed your teeth and went straight to the bedroom. 

you quietly opened the door, noticing how the lights were off and the only source that was providing some form of light inside your room was the small lamp on the side. 

tiptoeing to your side of the bed, you slipped under the covers as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. you could hear rin’s soft snores coming from the side, the cute man sleeping on his back as he faced the ceiling. 

your eyes scanned his features, which every nook and cranny of your brain had memorized. he looked so cute while he slept and an overwhelming wave of sadness hit you like a tsunami as you recalled the way you treated him earlier on the night. 

tears began to sting your eyes as guilt washed on your face, the warm liquid streaming down your face. without thinking twice, you climbed onto him as you straddled rin’s waist before hugging his sleeping form, burying your teary face in the crook of his neck while you sobbed. 

feeling the wet and warm tears stain the flesh of his neck, rin began to squirm in his sleep as he groaned. 

“what the hell?” rin groggily said, opening his sleep filled eyes as he saw a lump on top of him shaking and crying. he wrapped an arm around you before carefully sitting up, leaning against the headboard as he rubbed your back. 

you decided to face him, even though you knew you looked hideous. you face was probably wet and red like a tomato. 

“oh my god, you look even cuter now!” you cried even harder after taking one look at him, leaving rin nothing but confused as fuck. you peppered his face with kisses before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. you squeezed him closer to you until it was humanly not possible. 

“i’m so sorry, rinnie! i was such a jerk to you all night because i was so upset about my stupid project. it’s just everything was getting me so mad ‘cause my group mates ditched me and my dumbass spilled coffee on my laptop, a-and the-then i-” you were choking on your tears and words from crying and talking to fast. 

“shh, it’s okay baby. i’m not upset because you reacted that way, i know you were stressed. we’re okay, y/n.” rin’s words were gentle as it helped you calm down from your crying frenzy. you raised your face up to look back at his face, seeing a soft and warm smile painted on his lips as his gorgeous teal eyes sparkled with love. 

“i know but you’re my baby! and i love you so much! god, i was so mean, how could i even say those things? i’m so, so, sorry, rinnie. i shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you i’mtheworstgirlfriendeverohmygodwhydon’tyouhateme.” you ugly sobbed, your words weren’t even coherent as rin couldn’t help but chuckle. 

he knew that you didn’t mean those words and he also knew that this would happen as well. once again, your gentle boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand. 

“ahh, what a crybaby. hm, you can make it up to me by giving me a smile. i want to see my girlfriend smile before i go to sleep, not in tears.” he playfully said, as you lifted your head to meet his eyes once more. the sight of such a domestic scene made your stomach fill with swarming butterflies. 

fuck, you just wanted to marry him. 

“i’m gonna eat you up if you don’t stop looking at me like that.” you poked his chest, making him laugh as wiped away your tears with his fingers. 

“and exactly how am i looking at you?” rin asked and you mumbled. 

“like you wanna grow old with me until i die.” you bluntly responded, making his smile widen. 

“and what if told you that it’s exactly what i want?” he gave you a cheeky grin, making you blush as a giggle left your lips. 

“then what’s stopping you, idiot? marry me! i do, i do, i do!!” you exclaimed before crashing your lips with his. you placed your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you as both of your lips molded into each other’s. rin’s arms securely wrapped around your waist, following the rhythm of your lips. 

the kiss wasn’t intense, it was sweet and lasting with a touch of innocence. it was a kiss in which you both enjoyed each other as lovers. and you loved this feeling, the feeling of breathing, tasting and touching him. 

your sweet, kind and gentle lover, itoshi rin. 

pulling away, you looked at him with adoring eyes, swiping away the strands of hair that covered his eyes. rin looked at you like you were the most beautiful and important thing in his life. 

to which you were. 

“i’ll make you my wife and keep you in my heart forever. i love you so much, y/n.” his heart swelled with his love for you. your eyes nearly shape shifted into hearts upon hearing his words. 

“i love you more, rinnie.” you smiled, placing a smooch on his lips, purposely making noise as he chuckled. 

“come on, let’s go to sleep. you have class early in the morning, i don’t want you to fall sick.” rin said and you nodded, the both of you getting comfortable on the bed. you scooched closer to your boyfriend, wrapping all your limbs around him as you placed your head on his chest. your ear was right on top of his heart, hearing the thumping noises of his heart beating. 

it brought you peace to know such a perfect man existed, alive and in your hold right now. his pulse lulled you to sleep and soon enough, you were knocked out. 

rin glanced down to his chest and saw you fast asleep, his lips curling upwards as he bent his head down to place kisses on your lips and forehead. 

“oh, before i forget.” he leaned over to grab your phone, unlocking the device as he went to the submission box of your project assignment. he unsubmitted the report, going to the title page as he erased the names of your group members. a satisfied smirk was plastered over his face as he resubmitted the finished project that had just your name on it. 

“tch, not giving those fuckers any credit for what was all you, my love. sleep tight.” he said before ending his words to himself with a yawn, his own eyes feeling heavy. you were very warm and soft, which meant that rin would be out like a light soon as well. 

[crienselt]

So a few days ago I saw someone (elsewhere) questioning Zutara fans’ excitement about the scarf scene. It wasn't a mean comment, more general curiosity. And well, I didn't have time to get my thoughts out then. But they haven't gone away, so I'm getting them out here:

Here’s what everyone need to understand about Zutara shippers. We were baited baaaad during the initial run of the show–from the magazines to the shorts to the trailers and how they were cut. And Zuko and Katara’s relationship on the show certainly underwent a lot of development and featured objectively emotional–if not overtly romantic–moments between the two. We were well fed, and we had reason to hope. Right up to the end, we had reason to hope.

The shipping wars were the shipping wars, of course, with all the usual tensions; there are always going to be overzealous fans of each (and any) pairing willing to get toxic. Generally, I think Kataang fans were always jealous of Zutara’s popularity and Zutara fans, post finale, were jealous of Kataang’s, well, canon status. But really it operated much the same as any other large fandom’s shipping wars.

And then came Bryke and the panel where they showed and mocked Zutara fan art, some of which had been created by teens if not straight up children. Then came their, “Come on, kids! It was never going to work. Zutara is just dark and intriguing.”* And the pièce de résistance, their telling Zutara shippers (specifically girls/women) that they were doomed to have failed romantic relationships. Like, what? The thing with the art was arguably cruel, and the rest of it was oh, so condescending. Just all around not well done. 

The after effect was that Zutara went from being simply a fanon pairing to a wrong pairing. The ATLA fandom at large became a far more hostile place for Zutara fans, who were now more commonly deemed delusional and viewed as lesser fans. The vitriol only got worse when the show came to Netfilx and the next wave of antis rolled up with their co-opting of legitimate socio-political terms to paint Zutara not just as wrong but morally corrupt if not evil. It’s all very puritanical.**

So Zutara fans need to be reminded that we weren’t delusional, and we aren’t alone. It’s why it means so much to know that Dante Basco and Mae Whitman shipped their characters. And that so many other VAs came out as Zutara supporters too: Jack De Sena, Michaela Jill Murphy, Grey DeLisle, Janet Varney--even the cabbage man. For it to be revealed that it was discussed in the writers room; that the writers fought over it; that it WAS a canon possibility. (And that writers Joshua Hamilton and John O’Bryan are perfectly comfortable admitting their preference for Zutara.) To know that the Elizabeth Welch Ehasz described Zuko and Katara as an “Avatar-style Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” in the script for The Southern Raiders, and used the phrase “Zutara-feuling synchronicity and cooperation” to describe their action sequences. To see Giancarlo Volpe, a Kataanger, admit Zutara might been the better pairing in retrospect and choose a quiet scene between them (to see their “chemistry”) as what he’d most look forward to in the live action adaptation. It’s why we cling to the artwork done by Korean animation director. We aren’t delusional. We aren’t alone.

But try telling that to the general fandom, right? Most are ignorant of a lot of this, particularly Hamilton and O’Bryan’s revelations re: the writers room. A lot of Zutara fans don't even seem to know. But being baited by Netflix on their official accounts? Oh, people see that. And we are reminded in a big way that we aren't delusional and we aren't alone. And everyone else has to remember it too.

So, of course, we're having fun clowning over the scarf scene. And I think most Zutara fans know we are clowning. I don't think most expect to get canon Zutara in live action because of one little scene or the fact that their Netflix icons are facing each other. (I headcanon that that was totally the doing of Zutara shipper on staff, though, lol. Because there are a lot of us, and we are everywhere.)

And this is okay. Zutara has been doing just fine as a fanon ship. Meanwhile, NATLA might actually do Kataang justice. It always worked better as a future ship. (Really all the pairings do. But I especially don't ever need to see another 12 year old kissing let alone making out, in animation or live action, ever again.) There's a reason Padme and Anakin don't get together in Phantom Menace, after all. Also, there's always the chance they could give us Dante's or Mae's headcanon of them basically suppressing their feelings and choosing duty over love/right person-wrong time. And the odds of getting some more moments to clown over are high enough. 

Anyway, TLDR: Zutara has been made to feel like an out-of-nowhere crack ship and the live action crumbs remind us that it is not. And this is at least partially why we are enjoying it. (Because, also, it's just fun!)

*Side tangent: I’ve never gotten this dark and intriguing comment. Even during Season 1, the height of the capture fic era, Zutara was always a ship fundamentally about hope, predicated on Zuko's redemption. (Back in the day, there were also plenty of antis arguing that there was no way Zuko would ever be one of the gaang.) And they say “intriguing” like it’s a bad thing? Are we not supposed to be interested in the relationships of their characters???

**There have been some very good think pieces written lately on late stage capitalism and consumption as morality. Worth googling.

[sim0nril3y]

Your Flat

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: It's date night and Simon invites himself over to your flat to pick you up and he finally sees that chaos that you're living in, along with your artwork. Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), teasing, smut, P in V, Simon being his usual guarded self, canon-typical swearing.

Friday night. It was date night – something one night that you had jokingly called it and now it had begrudgingly become part of his own vocabulary too. It was now the thing in the week that Simon was beginning to look forward to the most. There had been no conversation of commitment but Simon knew that he liked spending time with you. Actually, you were consuming his mind outside of spending date nights with you. Deep down a voice continued to tell him that this was all a bad idea and that your safety was being risked but that voice was beginning to become more and more quiet as each day passed.

This would be the first time that Simon would see your flat. It had been the only thing you had been fairly secretive about. Rapping his knuckles loudly against the door Simon smirked to himself as he heard a flurry of sound from behind it. It swung open swiftly and witnessed you rushing in the opposite direction down the hallway, minus a few items of clothes. “You’re early!” That had been intentional, otherwise you’d had met him in the carpark and he’d never been able to set foot in your flat. “Come in!” You coaxed from your bedroom.

Entering your flat Simon was instantly overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of the place. It was small but it was full of clutter and art supplies, they were littering almost every surface. There was laundry slung over every door and radiator, hanging off the backs of chairs and on hangers over doorways, interestingly every place but the airer designed for it which was instead housing some of your drying canvas’. “Jesus, kid…”

“I didn’t realise I’d have company!” You hollered from your bedroom, sounding breathless behind the door, bumping into objects and fussing over trying to find something appropriate to wear. "I'm sorry!" You tagged on quickly.

In your lounge area there was one particular space that caught his attention. There were stacks of canvas’ placed against one another, an old looking easel, rows of different paints and brushes. Oh, so this must have been where you created your artwork and those canvas’ must have been the finished pieces. Simon took great care as he stepped into that little shrine and began to inspect them. It wasn’t like he understood art anyway. Looking at some pieces made him feel certain ways. It was invoking emotions – wasn’t that what art was supposed to do? Fuck, he wasn’t some connoisseur but he could see that you were very talented. “Right, I’m-” Your flustered frame bound around the corner still mid putting your heel on and cutting you sentence short as you spotted Simon in your ‘art studio’. “Oh, you found my art…”

Simon was careful in returning the canvas’ how he had found them and turned to you. “It was about the only thing I could find in here…” There was a tell-tale look of embarrassment that flashed across your features as you rolled your eyes. “You are a messy pup…” He commented taking a few steps in your direction and quirking a brow down at you, as if waiting for some explanation.

“I-It isn’t usually this bad…” There was so much defensiveness to your tone, attempting to rack your brain for some reasonable excuse for your flat being in such a state. “I woke up and I had this massive spark that I just knew I needed to get onto canvas… right, I’m not making excuses…. God, I know I must sound so stupid…. I’m not making a whole lot of sense, but-” “Kid, enough.” His firm tone commanded, reaching up and tugging you gently in his direction. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less if your flat is messy…” You let out a relieved puff of air. “As long as mine doesn’t end up the same way, I’m fine with it.” A bright smile found your lips. “What time did you say our table is booked for?”

His eyes narrowed softly as he felt your dainty fingers dancing along his belt. “Babe…” It was a warning. “What?” There was such false innocence to your tone and that was what finally made him snap.

It seemed very clear that your IKEA bedframe wasn’t up to the task of being fucked on. It creaked and cracked dangerously with each thrust into your trembling frame, the headboard was clattering against the wall so much that Simon wondered if he should put a pillow behind it to try and save your poor neighbours ears. All this whilst you whine and whimpered beneath him, clearly unaware of all this commotion. It appeared that all that consumed your mind was the way he perfectly stretched your tight walls to accommodate his girthy cock.

With one particularly strong crack beneath him Simon grumbled out. “M’gonna break your fuckin’ bed…” It earned a fit of giggles from you that mixed with a soft load of whimpers. “Fuck off. I’m being serious.” Even he could fight the small smirk before finally deciding to save your poor bed anymore stress.

Instead, his arms wound around your frame. “Fuckin’… c’mere…” His cock still buried deep within your walls as he rose from the bed and placed you against the closest surface. There wasn’t any hesitation from there, Simon began to fuck into your wet cunt with reckless-abandon. This time he was far more confident that he would be able to do any structural damage to your home. There wasn’t any way that he’d be able to knock down a loadbearing wall from fucking alone. “My good girl~”

Rushing from your flat once they had cleaned up and resituated the majority of their clothes. You were speaking your worries about the possibility of missing the table whilst trying to work your key into the dodge lock barrel, it didn’t escape your knowledge your grumpy old neighbour Peter was lingering outside smoking over the balcony and observing the estate below him. “These flats have thin walls, you know…” He muttered lowly and Simon narrowed his eyes as you struggled with the lock, cursing softly under your breath.

“Bad enough I have to listen to that shit you call music, but now I have to listen to you fucking too-” “That’s enough.” Simon growled out at him causing Peter to look in his direction furious. By luck the key finally spun and you were quick to be by Simon’s side, taking his hand and beginning to drag him past Peter and away from the possibility of an altercation.

As you got further away from Peter, you finally decided you could laugh softly, looking at Simon and saying. “You don’t have to fight every prick that says something stupid to us…” Taking your hand he tugged you close and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. “How else are they gonna learn not to be disrespectful to you.” He watched the way that your eyes filled with such adoration. “Now get your arse moving before I end up fucking you in the stairwell just to prove a point to that twat…”

Masterlist | Ask | 05-09-2023

[angelltheninth]

Shelter in the Rain

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: established relationship, suggestive, awkward boners, seeking shelter, fever, cuddling for warmth, undressing, Reader has a fever, embarrassed Jason Todd, gentleman Jason Todd

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: Got this idea while writing the little Al-Haitham blurb.

If there was ever any time Jason wished that he had superpowers this was one, not because he thought he'd be badass, he already was, but because he wanted to stop the damn rain from falling so hard.

"Remind me why I agreed to go into the middle of the woods with you?" Both of you were soaking wet through your clothes, your cape and cowl only wearing you down as Jason continued to grunt while pushing his motorbike up the hill. "And why did you think it was a good idea to go on your bike?"

"Because we got a tip about Killer Crock setting up close to the river. And if hadn't ruined the breaks we'd be out of here with no problem. This was a fresh paint job too." Jason almost slipped on the mud beneath his boots, but it could be raining fire and brimstones and he still wouldn't admit that this was a bad idea. "I'll fix it when we get back."

"Jason... you were the one who literally crashed into him at full speed. What did you expect? He's as tough as a building." You placed one hand on the motorcycle, huffing as you helped Jason push it along the hill.

Even through his helmet you could so clearly imagine the wide-eyed look he was throwing your way, "It was the best approach. I just didn't think he was gonna stay up after that."

Very few would.

You kept pushing along with him, almost up the hill and to one of the little abandoned safehouses, usually used by criminals as hideouts. The more you walked the harder of a time you had with pushing your body forward, keeping your eyes open, keeping your breathing under control. Eventually...

"Hey! Hey! What's wrong? Whoa!" You didn't hear anything after that, your world going black while Jason ran to the other side of the bike and picked you up with one arm, "Fuck. You have a fever. Idiot why didn't you say anything. How am I gonna... Shit!" Jason cursed himself out as he somehow managed to get you on his bike, one hand on your back, keeping you from falling off and the other gripping the handle, his muscles screaming in agony.

It took a little while longer but eventually he did manage to get you both into the safehouse and shut the door behind him. You were going in and out of consciousness when you felt his arms around your body, holding you against his chest and setting you down on a pile of sheets.

There wasn't much to work with here, barely enough for him to light a small fire and no medicine he could give you. "All we can do is wait until Bruce comes for us. I sent a signal so it shouldn't be too long now." He threw another piece of wood into the fire, his helmet now resting next to his guns on the floor.

"Okay. Thank you, for carrying me all the way here." Your thank you was promptly cut short with a cute sneeze and a sniffle.

"You uh... ahem... you should get out of those clothes. You're running a fever and if you stay in them you'll get sick." Weather it was your fever or the warmth of the fire you felt your entire face heat up in a flame from his suggestion.

"Actually, I'm feeling dizzy. Do you think you can help me get some of this stuff off?" Your face was getting hotter with each word and normally you wouldn't ask this of him, your relationship was a little new and while you did have sex before both of you were still in that slightly awkward phase. Well you were, Jason was just being cute and considerate.

Jason gulped and looked you over, seeing how unfocused your eyes seem, "If you want me to." He offered you a small, reassuring smile, slowly getting up and walking next to you. "Okay, here I go." His started with your cowl and your cape, unclasping it and letting it fall behind you, next were your combat booths, slowly taken off your legs, your gloves which he took off finger by finger. Your suit went next, "Lift your hands up." You did so, and even that movement made you dizzy and you fell forward, crashing against Jason's chest, "Sorry. That was a little sudden on my part."

"No, you're fine, please, keep going." You were very aware of how fast your heart was beating when he urged you backwards and started pulling your pants down, exposing your legs. "Jason." You whimpered, "Your hands are cold."

"Y-Yeah. I know Sorry about that." He quickly took off your socks and arranged your clothes close the fire, "Shit. I don't have anything to wrap you up with. Unless... are you okay with me? I should lose the clothes too anyways so I figured, you know, it's the best say to keep each other warm." His voice was shaking now too, he couldn't even look at you directly.

You nodded, not taking your eyes off him for a second as he shrugged off his jacket, his tight black shirt sticking to his body as he lifted it over his head, as he clenched and unclenched his hands once they were free of his gloves, as he hopped on one foot to the next, taking off his boots, and finally as he unbuckled and pushed his pants down.

"Oh. You uhm... you're kind of..." You looked from his underwear to his green eyes, his cheeks pink and hands clasped at the front of him.

"Well, the girl I like is only in her underwear. This is natural for a man so... I can put my clothes back on if you want me to." Even if he were to catch a cold he'd much rather deal with that then make you uncomfortable, especially while you're the one who's sick right now.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm happy I can make you like that." You smiled at him, "It's cute."

"Cute? I have a hard on and you think it's cute?" Jason threw you a wink as he walked behind you and sat down, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, "I think I'm more handsome, sexy, but from you I'll take it."

His erection was pushing against your side, making you inhale and gasp, your hands wrapping around his forearms, your legs curling up so you could press as close to him as possible, ignoring all other feelings pooling in your lower belly. "You're a great boyfriend Jason."

"I'm the best boyfriend sweetheart." He pressed a firm kiss against your forehead, holding it for a few seconds, "Try to relax and rest, I'll keep watch."

[mosaickiwi]

Nails, TV, Moving

Rendacted paints your nails and 'asks' you to move in. 1.3k words, GN reader c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~

"Unfortunately for our contestant—" the host’s words get cut off as you press a button on the remote.

"Booooo," you jeered at the TV from your spot on the floor and changed the channel. 

Ren hummed softly at your voice, but didn't look up. Despite the dark bangs that obscure their eyes, you can tell they’re focused. He was happily painting your nails—the same shade of black as his own—at your request. He insisted you sit as close as possible on the blanket he laid down, instead of across the coffee table. He'd only ever painted his own nails after all, so the angle was very important to keep him from messing up. You were certain he just said that because he wanted the closeness.

The screen barely flashes a few frames before you're changing it again. A football game, a cartoon, a drama, and then—you finally stop. There's a couple wandering through a cabin, with a disembodied voice narrating all it had to offer. One of the many house hunting shows that came on every so often.

"Oh, this one's pretty." You put down the remote to watch. The couple head upstairs where the master bedroom is and your excitement quickly dies. "Maybe not. The bathroom is a huge let down."

Ren casts a glance up at the TV as the camera pans over the room once more. He took in the slanted ceiling, with the tub stationed on the lower end, lit up by an angled skylight. He didn't really see whatever problem you had. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"The ceiling is already so low. You'd have to fold yourself in half to get in that tub, tall as you are. And you'd probably hit your head every time you got out. We couldn't live there," you grumbled and rested your chin on your free hand, eyes never straying from the screen. "No way I'd put you through that."

You didn't notice how he perked up when your concerns involved him—you even said ‘we.’ A miniscule drop of polish fell on the paper towel under your hand. He wasn't sure if you were being considerate, or if your perfectly normal relationship was at the point of buying a home together. He hoped it was the latter. Either way, including them already planted ideas in their mind. "So then, what's our—your ideal home have?"

"My ideal home…" You’d only really thought about things you didn’t want, thanks to your current apartment. "I can't say I'm very picky. No holes in the walls, enough room to breathe, no rats," you paused for a bit—now they were in a rather awkwardly shaped second bedroom. "When I was little I wanted to live in a bounce house. Or have a freezer dedicated to ice cream."

Ren smiled while he carefully painted the nail of your pinky. "One of those is doable."

"True, but I'd rather not blow up my house every day," you joked and continued pondering. "The location is probably the most important, right?" He silently nodded in agreement as you went on. "Corland Bay's nice and all—having everything so close together makes things easy. Except sometimes I wanna fall asleep without hearing cars pass by or Violet playing games. It's much quieter here. Plus your bed is comfy."

"You're more than welcome to live here, Angel," he innocently offered. “Although maybe you’d enjoy somewhere more secluded.”

“Like just out of town? Not too far from civilization. I'd still wanna be near the beach." You watched the couple fuss about the kitchen in another house before you really processed what he just said. You turned to look at him for the first time since the show caught your interest. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" 

"Oh, is that what it sounded like?" His tone was full of shock, but you could see the way his snake bites pulled up in a faint grin. He examined your nails and lifted your hand once he deemed it finished. "I do have all this space, though. The library’s close by. Beach is a short walk away, too. No neighbors, no noise. I've never had a rat problem. I guess it hits all the marks f’you, doesn’t it, Angel?"

"Ren…" You rolled your eyes at his antics. 

"If you really want to move in that badly, I'm not opposed," he said teasingly. "Other hand."

You didn't respond just yet, merely giving them a playful side eye and placing your hand flat on the table. Gently, you blew air on your wet nails while he went to work. The noise of the TV faded into the background as you thought about his offer.

It was a big step to take. You already spent a fair amount of your time at his place. The ever-dwindling amount of laundry you did at home served as proof. Cohabitating with them wouldn't be much different from now. Ren always gave you space when you asked, even with his clingy personality. He was tidy, quiet, and never made a fuss—the perfect roommate on paper. The real issue was money. A place like this would cost way more than a librarian’s salary could pay.

"As much as I want to, I have to consider rent first," you thought aloud, causing him to stop and look up.

"Angel, you don't need to pay anything." His answer was almost immediate and it surprised you how firm he sounded about it.

You shook your head. "I know I probably can't do half, but I’d like to do my fair share. How much is your rent each month?"

"Well, actually," he stalled and idly rolled the nail brush in his fingers before putting it back in the bottle. The rent was one thing he couldn’t be bothered to keep track of. "...I have no idea?"

"How—what?"

"It's an automatic payment so I never think about it," he admitted, explaining further at your incredulous expression. "I mean I definitely saw it when I found the listing—and when I signed the lease. But I can't remember it off the top of my head."

You had a hard time believing what you were hearing. You knew your own rent by heart—it mocked you every time it took a chunk out of your bank account. A question about how he budgeted weighed in your mind, although the rather calm way Ren spoke clearly answered it: he didn't. It seemed obvious now; he'd been a frivolous spender from the beginning.

The blank look on your face made him a little worried. "Honestly, Angel, it’s not an issue. I’ve been paying it on my own just fine," he insisted. "You don’t have t’worry about any cost if you stay here, I promise.” He’d be happy as a clam to pay triple whatever he already was if it meant you'd move in. Hell, he’d even pay for you to live in one of the empty units next door.

"Fine then," you sighed in defeat, glancing towards the TV screen for a moment. The show was already ending. "If I tried to give you money you'd just find a way to give it back anyways.”

Ren let out a faint breath as if he was holding back laughter, but didn’t disagree. "So, how about it? Gonna move in?” he asked with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help but smile the same in return. “Yeah, why not? I’d be crazy to say no. I can talk to my landlord and be out in a few weeks, probably.”

His excitement only seemed to grow at your words. He was radiating silent joy, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as he uncapped the bottle of polish once more. You could almost imagine a tail wagging behind him as he tried to make steady brushstrokes over your nail.

“Are you really that happy?” you laughed and he nodded. “Maybe I should just move in tomorrow.” His hand barely slipped, leaving the tiniest streak of polish on the side of your ring finger.

“Oops,” he muttered.

[sometimesanalice]

Oh Christmas Tree

Summary: Bradley’s never been one to look forward to the holidays, that is until he met you. He’s excited to do everything, including getting his very first real Christmas tree.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, allusions to smut. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2K 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(What was supposed to be a quick fluffy Christmas fic, somehow turned into this, enjoy!)

The atmosphere at the Hard Deck was livelier than usual, the music seemed more upbeat and the voices a little louder. It was the first time in a while that the entire Dagger Squad was together in one place. News of the success of the Uranium Mission traveled fast and had been keeping them busy in the months that had followed.

Things seemed to settle down a bit as the holidays rolled around, some has dispersed home for Thanksgiving while a few others had been given last minute orders to ship out for a short mission. You’d been dying to take Bradley Bradshaw home to meet your parents in person, but he had been one of the few sent away only set to return the day after Thanksgiving.

You’re sitting across from Natasha at a high top near the pool tables in the back of the bar listening to Jake talk about his visit home, while your boyfriend next to you talks animatedly about something related to his latest mission with Bob.

“I shaved off an extra 5 minutes from the last Trot. Turns out I’m in even better shape than I was the last time I was home for Thanksgiving,” Jake brags smugly taking a swig of his beer from his nearly empty bottle.

“Wait, you come from a Turkey Trot family? That explains so much. Please tell me, you guys wear matching Seresin family shirts for it too,” you tease without remorse. “Oh! Or maybe those turkey leg bobble headbands?” 

You hear Bradley snort into his beer as he drops a well-defined arm across your shoulders. He’s wearing one of your favorite Hawaiian shirts from his collection, and you’ve been having a hard time keeping your eyes and hands to yourself.

“Bradshaw! Are you going to let your girl trash talk me like that?” You turn to Bradley to see him smirk with a shrug at Jake’s indignation.

“I mean, if the headband fits,” he replies lifting his bottle up in cheers.

“Darlin’, you wound me. And for the record they don’t match, since we all get to decorate our own with those paints in the little squeeze bottles,” he says pointing his empty bottle at you before turning to Bradley, “And see if I ever save your smug ass again.” He walks away making his way to the bar for another beer.

“Formal petition to change his callsign to Turkey now. Him and Rooster could be the Bird Bros,” Natasha jokes after he’s out of earshot. “What about you, how was your trip home?”

“It was pretty good,” you feel Bradley start playing with the ends of your hair, while he picks his conversation with Bob back up. “Since my sister had the baby, my parents have been leaning into the new grandparent thing pretty hard. So I set to establishing myself as the fun wine aunt, and basically drank cranberry mimosas all day.” You pause to take a sip of your drink, “Which I regretted immediately the next day when my parents decided it was imperative that we all go to their favorite Christmas tree farm as soon as it opened to cut one down together. Baby’s first Christmas all.” You unlock your phone to pull up the folder you made of pictures from the visit, handing over your phone to let her scroll.

“Since they’re flying out to spend Christmas with my sister and her in-laws in Philly, I tried to talk them into an artificial tree. Which is blasphemy where I’m from, I’m pretty sure the state tree is the Douglas Fir. My family takes the tree hunt very seriously, there’s a science to it and everything,” you lean over to swipe past some of the selfies you took to show her the completed tree in your parents sitting room. 

“However, as you can see, my attempt to talk them into the lower maintenance, yet slightly ostentatious, fluffy pink tree of my dreams was met with a hard pass,” you say laughing to yourself.

She swipes backwards a couple times on the pictures. “This one is cute, why didn’t you post this photo?” she asks holding your phone up showing a selfie of you at the tree farm.

“Which one? Let me see,” Bradley requests, his conversation with Bob now abandoned. He’s already leaning into you and reaching across the high top with his large hands to take the phone from Nat.

It was a photo of you that Bradley hadn’t seen before. You were pink nosed wrapped up in cozy looking scarf, surrounded by pine trees and grinning into the camera. And his heart swells at the sight of the image before him. It’s just so you.

“You really look pretty,” he states sincerely. He glances at you briefly to see a hint of a blush spread across your cheeks before turning his gaze back to the picture of you.

He’d known you had been just as eager as he was for to him come home with you to meet your parents in person. You had even concocted a plan that involved him to try and help you get your hands on your Aunt Christine’s corn soufflé recipe.

“My mom has tried to get it for years, and she refuses to share it with anyone!” you’d lamented to him one evening after a couple large glasses of wine. “She always says she’ll email it, but she never does!” You gesture wildly. He loved getting to know all sides of you, but two-drink you was a particular favorite of his.

“Mmm. Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep,” he nodded along in solidarity.

“Exactly, Bradley! You get it!” You take another long, deep sip of your Merlot, your feet tucked under you on his couch. “Me with my wiles and you with your Rooster charisma, I think this might be the year! I’ll set the groundwork and you can lay the ruggedly-handsome-impossibly-sexy-American-hero-thing on thick,” he loved how animated you were getting and he was having a hard time keeping the indulgent smile off of his face. “And she’ll fall right into our trap and release the goods all while thinking she’s staring in her own Hallmark movie.” He knew he would do anything for you, what his girl wants she gets. If that involves some light to heavy flirting with your aunt, so be it. He was getting soufflé recipe for you one way or another.

However, those plans were quickly dashed when he got the mission orders at the last minute. His stomach was in knots when it came time to tell you, but you were quick to put him at ease by reminding him there was always next year. “Plus” you’d said, “it gives us a whole year to craft our Stealthy Soufflé Scheme. Although, maybe we can pop up in May or June? I want to show you all the sights, we can even go hiking! And I’m definitely planning on taking you on a beer tour.”

“That sounds like the perfect trip, Sweetheart. I’d love that. I’ll see about getting a request submitted first thing in the morning,” he was already setting a reminder in his phone so he wouldn’t get too distracted at work and forget. He wasn’t going to let you down again.

“Oh. That’s probably one I snapped really quick and forgot to send to Bradley. I was probably already spamming him too much as it was,” you answer in response to Natasha’s question. Even though you knew exactly why that one never made it his inbox.

Since you’d be spending the holiday apart, Bradley had requested that you send him pictures throughout your visit so that he didn’t feel like he was missing anything. You had sent him ones of you at the grocery store with your mom, of you holding your niece, a few silly ones fueled by too many champagne heavy mimosas, and some less family friendly shots of you in bed wearing the deep wine-colored lacy lingerie set you had planned to surprise him with. And then a few without the lingerie set too.

You had known he wouldn’t have the best reception, so you sent them as things happened knowing that he’d respond whenever he could. You just wanted them there waiting for him. However, a few days in was getting hard to know what was too much when all you could see were all your outgoing messages to him.

You had felt yourself getting a little self-conscious and started second guessing the things you sent, like the picture from the tree farm. You didn’t want to go overboard and scare him off or make it seem like you were rubbing his face in all the things he was missing while he was on assignment. You had just wanted him to know that you were thinking about him- which was pretty much all the time.

Turning your head to take him in next to you. He’s sitting there with a soft smile on his face while he is tapping away on your phone. When his phone lights up mere moments later, you realize he’d just sent the image to himself and was now paging through the folder looking for others.

“For being a Communications Specialist, you’re really bad about updating your own social media. That one was definitely worthy of making it to the grid,” Nat announces as she slides off the barstool taking Bob with her to go dominate on one of the pool tables.

Bradley hands you your phone back. “You know, I’ve never been to a Christmas tree farm. Or even had a real tree for that matter,” he murmurs a bit ruefully when it’s just the two of you, picking at the label of the bottle Natasha had left behind.

“When I was younger we only ever had a fake tree. And then after my mom passed, everything with Mav, and moving around so much I just kind of didn’t ever want to think about it. I never thought to get anything for myself.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I’m really happy you’re sticking around to show me the ropes this year,” he says earnestly, sounding much lighter than before.

The thought of him fending for himself for so long makes your heart hurt. You lean into him pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy you want to spend the day with me,” you tell him brushing your nose against his as you pull away. 

“I did my good daughter duties, but flying home during the one of busiest days of the year was enough for me. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to the Richardson’s by going to Philly, my parents call them the Dickardson’s for a reason,” making a face that causes him to laugh.

“We’re going to have the best Christmas together, I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else.” This time when you pull him in for another kiss your lips are eager to meet his. The slide of his mouth against yours never fails to make your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You could spend days kissing Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and never want to break for air. It’s only at the sound of someone’s loud wolf whistle that you break apart as you’re brought back the moment.

“You know, I’m still not over the fact that my girlfriend withheld such ‘compelling content’ from me,” he teases, using air quotes the buzzwords he’s heard you say from listening to one too many of your late night zoom meetings.

“It was the last day! You were getting in before me, and I thought you’d want the real deal instead. And to tell the truth, I didn’t know if I was overdoing it. I didn’t want to make you feel left out,” you explain honestly. You’ve always been the type to keep those insecurities to yourself, but you’ve been trying to do better. He makes you feel safe enough to open up without holding back.

“Sweetheart.” He picks up your hand his mustache brushing the back of it as he places a kiss there. “You could never overdo it. Spam away, send me everything. I love getting those pictures, it makes me feel closer to you. But, I do know how you could make it up to me.” As he sends a mischievous wink your way.

You’re hit with a brief vision of you on your knees before him in that wine-colored set he still has yet to see in person. 

“Oh, do you?” You ease off your stool to stand in front of him, his legs automatically widening for you to step in between them.

“Wanna come help me pick out a tree this weekend?” he asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to tug you in even closer. “I hear you know a thing or two about picking out the best one,” his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles broadly at you.

You don’t bother fighting back the grin that takes over your face. “Stick with me, kid,” you say taking his sunglasses from where they rest against his chest and sliding them on, “I won’t lead you astray.” 

Bradley had the best afternoon learning the ins and outs of selecting the perfect tree at the tree lot with you. 

He had found a tree place with a festive name that was about 30 minutes away, it was probably a bit different than what you were used to, but he hoped you’d be happy with the options there. He had even called in advance to make sure they had the specific variety your parents usually got after texting with your dad to find out what he should be looking for.

He had wanted to pick you up from your apartment, but you had insisted on meeting him at his place since you had an early work meeting scheduled in the morning. And had greeted you with a coffee in hand from your favorite shop when you arrived.

He’d even worn the plaid flannel shirt you had bought for him when you were visiting home for the occasion. When he parked the Bronco in the lot, you had giddily exclaimed, “Bradley, look at all the trees! There’s way more than I thought there’d be. It smells like home!” 

Once you were both out of the car you had grabbed his hand threading your fingers between his, and set off like a woman on a mission. He’d felt rather pleased with himself. 

The outdoor speakers were playing the local Christmas radio station and there were rows and rows of trees under a few large white topped tents. He loved how seriously you were taking this, and if he wasn’t already totally enamored with you this would have sealed the deal.

You’d taught him how to determine its freshness, “You have to pull a needle off and see if it bends or snaps. If it snaps then it’s already way too dried out and you’re just purchasing a giant match stick.” 

From there the came the scent test, “Now sniff the tree, you have to get your face in there. The stronger the tree scent the longer it will last.” 

And finally, the aesthetics. 

“I like mine a little girthy and on the fuller side, but that’s all a matter of personal preference. You want some gaps, so that the heavier ornaments can hang better, but not too many. And the top has to be straight, no one wants a lopsided tree topper.”

“That’s not the only thing you like full and girthy,” he couldn’t help but let slip out.

“Bradley, there are children here!” you admonished while looking around wide eyed, but that didn’t stop you from grazing the front of his jeans every chance you got.

So, when he managed to find what you excitedly deemed to be the “absolute most perfect tree!”, he couldn’t help but preen his face feeling a bit warm from the attention and praise you showered him with.

He’d hauled the tree up to the check out where it was bundled while he paid, and then carried it over his shoulder out to the Bronco. You’d trailed behind him carrying the wreath you’d picked out humming along with the music.

“Is there such a thing as a competence kink? Because this,” you had mused gesturing to him tying the tree down in the back, his hands tingling, “is definitely doing it for me.” He had just grinned and shaken his head at you, his face heating up a bit. However, he couldn’t help but flex a bit more for your benefit as he finished up.

And when you made him pull off the road less than 10 minutes later, to indulge in that new self-discovery with your mouth around his cock, well that was very much for his benefit.

Now you’re with him at his place.  You guys had wrangled the perfect tree into the house and had gotten it set up in front of his windows in the living room near the upright piano he had tucked in the corner. He loved the smell that was filling the room and the way you’d lit up once it was in place. If he had his way, you’d be around all the time.

Bradley could hear you singing along to the Christmas album he had picked up that was playing on his Dad’s old record player as you worked on putting together some hot toddies in the kitchen. You had put him on light duty, and he was determined to make it the best-looking thing you’ve ever seen.

He worked going round and round the Christmas tree, the lights all shining merrily. He took his time making sure to wrap and tuck the lights around the branches, the cozy glow filling his chest with warmth.

But the longer he worked the more he was starting to get worried that he was coming down with a bug or something, his face starting to feel slightly feverish. His throat getting thick and uncomfortable.

He’d noticed it earlier at the tree lot, but didn’t want to give it too much thought. The Navy had ruined his Thanksgiving plans with you and he didn’t want to let you down again. He worked to string lights on a few more branches adamant to push through for you. 

“Sweetheart,” he reluctantly called out to you, “I think I might be coming down with something. I’m not feeling too hot, and my throat is kinda scratchy.” The guilt was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach, maybe if he rested now he could keep it from getting too bad.

He turns to see you coming out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in your hand, your eyes going wide.

He turns back to the tree looking to see if he accidentally fucked something up. It was his first time with a real tree, maybe the lights needed to be strung differently.

“Bradley. Oh my god.”

You had just put the finishing touches on the hot toddies and were already walking out of the kitchen when Bradley had called out to you. Those beverages were quickly abandoned on his coffee table as you propelled yourself towards him.

His face was brightly flushed and his eyes were shade of red that made your own itch in sympathy. You reach up to tug at the collar of the flannel he was wearing to get a better look at the skin of his neck and chest. The scars on his neck were standing out in contrast to his reddened skin.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Even his voice was sounding a bit scratchy. You ignore him in favor for undoing the buttons at the cuff and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to not let yourself get too anxious. “You tryin’ to get me to put these lights up topless like some kind of sexy Santa?”

You shush him as you finally get the sleeve rolled up when your suspicions are confirmed, his thick forearm is absolutely covered in angry looking raised red welts. 

“Oh no. Roos, baby. You’re breaking out.” Already pulling him away from the 7-foot issue occupying the living room and heading towards the kitchen, “I think you have pine tree allergy.” 

He finally looks away from your face and down to his arm, a deep furrow settling over his features, “Oh fuck.” You get him seated at his oval oak dining table grabbing your phone to figure out what to do next.

“Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’,” you repeat back to him eyes skimming the information on the page you clicked into.  You’ve always been the type to take charge in a crisis, this would be no different. You’d make sure he’s taken care of the way he needs to be. The way he deserves to be.

“How’s your breathing feel? Is your throat feeling tight or like it’s closing up?” you ask looking up at him.

His red-rimmed honey eyes seem to shift focus like he’s lost in thought for a brief moment.

“Rooster.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, baby,” he says a bit bashfully. “I’m used to being the one levelheaded in stressful situations, but you should see the intensity on your face. I think you coulda been a pilot.”

“Bradley, I’m flattered. Truly,” you’ve learned that he isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean and you respect the hell out of what he does. “Although I’m sure there are a few more qualifications I’d have to pass than that,” you reply lightly, petting the back of his hand resting on the table. “But I need you stick with me here. I just need to figure out if we need to get you to the ER or not.”

He nods. “It’s a little thick, but not like it’s going to close up. And really scratchy, ‘s all.”

“Ok, that’s good. That’s good,” you repeat again more to yourself than him. 

You love this man so much, and he deserves the world. This is the last thing you would have wanted for him and his very first, and last, real tree.

You can still hear the record playing in the background as you try not to gnaw on the inside of your cheek working to put your game plan together.

After firing off a quick text to Jake, you quickly pop upstairs to Bradley’s medicine cupboard, hoping that he has some antihistamines tucked away in there. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see the pink box, grabbing it you tear off a couple squares from the silver lined sheet to bring back to him.

He’s still sitting where you left him at the dining table. He’s slumped down in the chair his mouth pulled down at the corners, and you think it’s probably because he’s not feeling the greatest right now. You hand him the meds and a fetch him a glass of water, watching as the tendons of his throat flex as they work to swallow the pills down. The red welts have finally made an appearance there too, and are an angry contrast to his usually golden skin.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hmm?” You bend down to catch his eyes with your and holding out our hands to him. He nods once taking your smaller hands in his as he lets you pull him up. 

You help him to unbutton and remove the flannel shirt trying to avoid further contact with the hives on his body, not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort. Once his wide chest and arms are uncovered, you work his jeans down his thick thighs leaving him in his tight black boxer briefs. There’s nothing more than you love than being up close with Rooster’s body, but right now you’re on a mission and can’t be distracted by all the skin before you.

While you’re still feeling concerned for him, you can feel your anxiety starting to settle a bit from where it was at earlier. You’ve got a plan, you’ve already checked off a few things, and you’ll be able to take a breath once Bradley is taken care of.

He’s ruining everything with you. First Thanksgiving and now Christmas. 

How the fuck did he not know he was allergic to pine trees? He’s 35, he should known those kinds of things by now. Shouldn’t he?

He is frustrated as fuck laying on top of the king-sized bed in his darkened bedroom, the stinging of the hives on his arms and upper body were driving him crazy. God, his eyes itched and burned. Although, he couldn’t tell if it as from the reaction to the tree or from fighting the sudden urge to cry for the first time in a very long time.

The afternoon was not going as he had envisioned it. He wanted to sing some carols loudly while getting tipsy off hot toddies with you. Dance with you in between hanging ornaments on the tree. Maybe fuck you under the tree if he played his cards right, he wanted to be the one to get your tinsel in a tangle. 

All he had wanted was to make you happy. You weren’t spending Christmas with your family, and he didn’t want you to miss out on anything being in California with him instead. He was really excited about the holiday for the first time in what felt like forever, and it had everything to do with you.

“Do you have any oatmeal here?” You had asked him not too long ago, and it was all he could do to point you in the right direction as the guilt was eating away at him. Once you had found it, you had sent him away to go upstairs to get him further away from the tree. His strong, capable, and pretty girlfriend was left to deal with the mess downstairs without him. 

He could hear the whir of the blender and wondered what you were up to. Sulking at the fact that all he could do is wait for the antihistamines to kick in, and hope that he’d be feeling better soon so that he could help you take care of things.

“Bradley? Baby, are you awake?” You entered the dimly lit room cautiously, approaching him gingerly on the bed and holding a large bowl with something fluffy and powdery looking in it. He hadn’t heard you come up the stairs.

He loved the sound of your voice. He loved it in the morning when it was thick with sleep, how excited you got when you were talking about something you were passionate about, and he especially loved the breathy whispers and words of encouragement from you in his ear late at night when he was moving so deep within you. What he didn’t love was being the reason you were so anxious, that he was at fault for why your tone was so laced with concerned. 

“Yeah,” although he was starting to feel sluggish, “’m still awake.” He felt your cool hands on his face and leaned into your soothing touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’m going to make you an oatmeal bath,” you informed him gesturing to the bowl in your hand. “From what I’ve been reading online that should help calm down the hives, hopefully stop them from spreading anymore.’

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he sighed. He can hear how pitiful he sounds, but right now his girl is the only thing that is making him feel good, and he will do anything you ask of him.

You set about turning the taps on for the large tub in the bathroom, twisting the handles to get the water to come out at the right temperature. Once you were satisfied, you swirled in the oat powder you had made watching as the water turned cloudy, then headed back into the bedroom to get Bradley.

“Let’s get you in the tub so you can soak for a bit, yeah?” He looks so miserable alone stretched out on the bed. “It’s not too hot, and it should help you feel better,” you help him to sit up placing a kiss to the lines of the scars on his cheek trying to comfort him.

Ever the soldier, he dutifully follows you into the bathroom. Once he is stripped of his briefs and comfortably situated in the milky mixture, his eyes flutter closed as he reclines back, leaning his head against the ledge of the tub. You move kneel on the floor next to him running your fingers through his sun-streaked waves.

Your little pocket of peace is disturbed a few minutes later by the ding of your phone.

“Jake just got here,” you announce filling him in on the next part of your plan, “He’s going to help me with the tree.” 

“’posed to be my job,” Bradley sulks making a petulant sound in his throat. You can’t help but let out a gentle tsk while fighting back a small smile at his response.  

“I just want you to relax here and let the oatmeal do its thing. I’m going to get things wrapped up downstairs it shouldn’t take too long, and then I’ll come back to check on you.”

“Mmhm, fine,” he sighs as you press a kiss to his forehead.

You let Jake in and he is quick to jump in taking over by unwinding the lights off from the partially lit tree. He’s even quicker to haul the massive thing out of the house and into the back of his truck, as the new owner of the 7-foot Noble Fir. After the tree is deposited, he heads back in and helps you coil the lights back up so they’re not in a tangled mess on the floor making some light small talk because he can tell your mind is elsewhere. 

On his way out the door he shoots you a cocky salute, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face.  “You can thank my new Trot PR for how quickly I was able to run back to my place after I got your SOS text to get here as quickly as I did, Darlin’,” he drawls. 

You flip him off, but tell him to text you what meals he’d like you to make and bring over later in the week as thanks for his help. And with a quick kiss to his cheek, you shoo him out the door wanting to get back to your boyfriend.

After he leaves, you break out the vacuum and work on getting the needles off the ground before moving on to the laundry. You grab the pile of Bradley’s clothes from the floor in the kitchen where you had left them before stripping down to your underwear, throwing everything in the washer and turning it on to get rid of any potential lingering irritants.

You make you way back upstairs, stopping to slip on one of Bradley’s old UVA t-shirts and grabbing him a loose pair of navy sweatpants, before going in to check on him. He is still there soaking his head tilted back and eyes closed, just as you had left him. Thankfully the hives have seemed to stop their spread leaving his face untouched. His neck, chest, and arms still bearing the brunt of his allergic reaction.

You gently knock on the door to announce your presence, not wanting to startle him. “You ready to come out now, baby?” Before him you had never been a pet name person, but now all you wanted to be a source of comfort in his life. A soft place for him to land.

“Yeah,” he turns his head towards the sound of your voice, “I think I might be getting a bit prune-y, but that felt really good. Thank you, Sweetheart.” He has finally opened his eyes and looking right at you, with a smile small and soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You’re trying not to read into it too much, not wanting to let your anxiety get the best of you. You help him up from bath and use the handheld to first shower him off, grabbing a fluffy towel to help gingerly pat him dry. As he bends to pull on the sweatpants you had brought in you turn to rinse out the remaining oatmeal residue from the tub. He presses a kiss to the back of your head as he passes by you to make his way back to the bedroom.

By the time you’re done he has already climbed into bed, the comforter on your side already pulled back as he reaches out for you to get in with him. The white percale sheets you had helped him pick out were cool and luxuriously soft to the touch, and you feel yourself release the breath it felt like you’d been holding since you entered the living room holding those long forgotten hot toddies.

Bradley is quick to lace your fingers together and tuck his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his mustache ticking the soft skin of your throat there. For all of his golden retriever energy, he is soaking up your affection and attention like a lap cat as you slowly rub your free hand up and down his broad back.

However, he’s still entirely too quiet. Your lips press tightly together on their own accord as you begin to think that there’s something more on his mind that he’s not sharing with you than just the effects of the hives and double dose of Benadryl.

You’re about to speak up when he beats you to it, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel at home and now I’ve ruined Christmas.” You’ve never heard his voice sound so small.

Oh. Oh no.

“Bradley, please look at me.” 

You lean back a bit as he removes his face from the spot it was tucked into and study his beautiful yet troubled looking eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet? Please tell me you haven’t been spiraling thinking you’ve ruined anything.” He looks away, and you feel your brows scrunch together.

You cup his cheek in your hand, running your thumb down the cleft of his chin, “I love you so much and we’re going to have such a wonderful Christmas together, a tree is a nonissue here, baby. You matter more to me. I hope you know that.” His gaze finally meets yours and you continue on, “I need you to hear me. You’ve got absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing is ruined and nothing that happened today is your fault. Ok?” Nodding your head, needing for him to understand and let go of his misplaced guilt. 

You see the exact moment he absorbs and believes everything you’re saying to him, his shoulders releasing the tension that had gathered there. “Ok, I hear you.” You lean into him to place a tender kiss on his lips. “I love you so much,” he breaths against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you say pressing one more lingering kiss to his lips before encouraging him to settle his head back down again. He reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair, prompting you to comb your fingers through his curls. 

“Now that we’ve settled that, how are you feeling? What else can I do to help?” 

“You’ve done so much for me,” he murmurs kissing your neck gently. “’M just tired now and want to hold you for a bit. The Benadryl is starting to kick my ass.” He pauses for a moment, “But maybe we can order some pizza, Sweetheart? And put on one of those Christmas movies you like? Y’know the ones where the people live in a town is named something like Tinselville and their dogs fall in love?” He asks his voice sounding a bit boyish and hopeful. 

You can’t help but let out a giggle because, really, his description is not too far off. You can feel his smile against the side of your neck as you turn the tv on.

“You can have whatever you like, handsome boy. Pizza and Oscar quality Christmas content, it is.” You grab your phone unlocking it and opening up to the delivery app, when Bradley plucks it from your hand tossing it to the side and placing his in yours instead.

“Order from mine instead, it’s my turn to take care of you,” he states slinging his arm low over your hip.

You click the button on the side to wake his phone up only to see your face smiling back at you on his lockscreen. Nose bright from the cold, surrounded by trees, and wrapped up in a scarf your mom had loaned to you since you hadn’t brought any practical winter-wear home with you.

It’s the picture that Bradley has sent himself the other night at the bar, and you’re flooded with a rush of affection for the man nestled against you. You notice his wallpaper is still the picture of you and him from this Halloween when you’d surprised everyone by dressing up as him, he’s kissing you squarely on the mouth while grabbing a handful of your ass. It was one of your favorites too.

You’d just finished submitting the order, when a text from Jake comes through, and you roll your eyes.

Those 5th Gens didn’t get you, but you’re taken out by a fucking a Christmas Tree. Would hate to see what one of those tree shaped car fresheners would do to you.

You’re not going to let him come for your boyfriend, even in playful roasting, when you just managed to picked his spirits up. Not tonight, Hangman. And you set to typing your response with your one free hand, the other still carding through Bradley’s curls. 

Listen up, Lieutenant Turkey Trot. I was planning on surprising you with a bottle of that Texas bourbon you like when I swing by with the food later this week, but now that’s up to you. Do with that what you will... xx

Not bothering to wait for a response you hand Bradley back his phone only to see it light up again. “Lieutenant Turkey Trot,” he snorts, “Damn. Hangman apologized. And he says he wants a lasagna and your chicken and dumpling casserole.”

Southern men are too easy. Nothing is as important to them as food and their mamas. You smile smugly to yourself, making a mental note to go to remember to stop by that speciality liquor store by your place.

The food is delivered not too much later, you and Bradley eat in bed the box sitting between you while making fun of the plot of the movie you had turned on. You can tell the Benadryl is staring to win when Bradley’s running commentary tapers and his breathing begins to even out.

“It’s ok to go to sleep, baby.”

“Just resting my eyes, wanna see if they figure out why the poinsettias aren’t blooming.”  

“You should get your rest,” you gently press, “I’ll set record it and you can find out tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?” He asks sleepily as he concedes and begins to burrow down into his bed.

“Of course. If you want me here, I’ll stay.” Truth be told, you liked his bed better than yours. You’d even went back to the shop where you’d helped Bradley pick out his sheets from and bought the same percale set for your place in an attempt to help you sleep better.

You set an alarm for earlier than you’d like, remembering you have a meeting first thing in the morning. “I might have to leave a bit earlier than usual though,” you mention softly, “Since I’ll need to go to my place before I have to head in to the office.” You hadn’t originally planned on staying over due to your early morning and now you were kicking yourself for not grabbing a few things to keep in your car just in case.

“Yes. Stay,” he murmurs and reaches out to you, wrapping his arm around your midsection and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly down his forearm, feeling the hills and valleys caused by the welts that litter his arm. He lets out a hum of contentment in response, you’re pressed so close to him you can feel the vibrations of the sound from his chest against your back.

You think you’ve finally lost him to sleep when he mumbles already half gone, “Why don’t you keep more things here?” You can feel his warm breath against the back of your neck.

“How much were you thinking? You saying you want to share a drawer with me?” you lightly tease.

“Bring it all,” he sighs, “Want you here.”

The sound of his soft snores filling your ear only a couple minutes later.

You don’t bring up Bradley’s half-asleep musings, you won’t hold him to anything said under the influence of the antihistamines. While the thoughts of moving in and living with Bradley made your heart beat a bit faster, you kept those hopes tucked away just for yourself.

It was now a week after the pine tree debacle, Bradley’s hives were quick to clear up after a couple days and a few oatmeal baths later. Your skin was still reaping the benefits of the oatmeal too after he managed to coax you in with him one evening. 

He had texted you earlier in the day asking for you to swing by his place after work. You knew the door would be unlocked for you, and you let yourself in.

“That you, Sweetheart?” He called out from nearby, you can hear the sounds of some crooner singing in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me." You set your purse and work tote down before bending to undo your heels at the door. “Hey, I was thinking on my way over here, I bet lots of places still have artificial trees left in stock that we could get. I feel like we need a Christmas redo.” You get one off and begin working on the other, “I was planning on getting one to liven up my place too, maybe I can find one of those ostentatious pink ones I tried to talk my parents into getting and fulfill a lifelong dream.” You say that last part with a little laugh.

You finally win the battle against the top buckle of your cute shoe finally kicking it off and wiggling your toes out, “Ooh! Maybe we can go to that cute cocktail bar off 17th afterwards? One of my coworkers was talking about their new seasonal drinks today and it seems festive.”

You fish your phone out of your purse and make your way to the living room, “That is if you didn’t have anything planned.”

Your voice trails off at the end because when you round the corner you find Bradley in his living room looking very proud with a self-satisfied smile on his face already standing next to a Christmas tree.

A very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas tree.

You stand there entirely stunned. The juxtaposition of your tall, handsome naval aviator next to this truly over the top frosted tree has your brain working overtime. The entire room is cast in a dreamy glow from many strands of white lights he had already spun around it.

“I still feel bad that about what happened the other weekend, and I wanted to make it up to you. At the bar, I heard you telling Phoenix that you always wanted a pink tree, so I hope this is similar to what you hand in mind.” He seems to be getting a bit nervous now, since all it seems you can do is just blink at him. He reaches around into his back pocket pulling out a small tube, “I even got some of those scent stick things to tuck in if you-” 

He doesn’t get to finish since you’ve launch yourself at him.

“Bradley!” He catches you easily with one arm as you begin peppering his face with kisses.

His laugher fills the room and his grin lights up his face at your reaction, “Are you happy, Sweetheart?”  

“I’m the happiest! Oh my god! Are you for real?” you exclaim in between kisses. You stop the assault on his face to take it in your hands, “Seriously though, there is nothing to feel bad about. You’re what matters most to me. I mean, yes, I absolutely love this. But you should have what you like too.”

He takes a step back, with you still in his arms and propped up on his hip. He thoughtfully studies the tree in front of you both. “Yep. This is definitely the perfect tree,” he declares proudly, “It’s full and girthy. Has some good gaps, and look at that top. Straight as an arrow. Although we might need to get some more decorations for it, but I got it started.”

You look from him back to the tree puzzled, since you don’t see anything on it aside from the lights. He walks you both closer, and pulls off what looks to be a strand of curling ribbon with a shiny silver object dangling from it from a branch on the tree. 

A key.

He sets you down back on your own two feet, holding you close against his body bringing his forehead to yours. “I meant it, Sweetheart. Bring it all. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here. All the time. With me. You’re the only thing on my list this year, you’re all I want. Will you let me give you more than a drawer?” His honey brown eyes gazing at you hopefully.

You already knew what your response would be even before he pulled that key from off the tree, and the answer must be all over your face because Bradley’s face breaks into a beam as he picks you up and spins you around.

The choice has always been easy with him, it’ll always be a yes.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Causally hyper-fixating over all things TGM at bradshawburner

You can find the prequel to this story here!

Find out what happens during their second Christmas together here!

You can read more of my stories here!

[vrabbiit]

Hope this is okay to ask, but how do you think Freddy, Sun, and Moon would react to their S/O being scolded/talked down to by an angry patron/parent/etc to the point of tears? (Definitely not projecting bc a lady chewed me out over the phone not even an hour into my 8 hour shift and made me cry in front of my boss lol nope no way--)

ohhh boy i hope you're ok anon!!! but i can relate hard to this so i hope it makes you feel better! i ended up writing full on short-fics for this, whoops!

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack (doesn't happen in the writing though!)

Glamrock Freddy |✧˖*°࿐ . . .

Freddy may be the pinnacle of politeness and good customer service, but even he has his limits. And this patron, from what he'd seen around the Pizzaplex, was pushing them as far as she could. He hesitated to use the word "Karen" (not that he necessarily understood the meme), but with the way she was admonishing the few human staff with barely a glance at the children she was dragging behind her, it would probably be an apt description. He'd seen her complain at the entrance staff for her having to queue like everyone else, heard her raise her voice when the food she'd snappily ordered "wasn't hot enough", and even witnessed her huff because her child wasn't allowed to jump the queue at Fazer Blast.

All of that, he could keep his composure through. If he gave the clearly exhausted workers a sympathetic word or glance through the day, that was just him being a good coworker.

His absolute limit came, however, when he saw the woman round on you. Simply walking through the Pizzaplex in uniform (even though he knew it was your lunch break) had painted a target on your back for the unpleasant parent, and he watched from a distance as she stalked up to you and tapped your shoulder much more harshly than necessary. He couldn't quite hear what you said, but before you could finish your sentence the sound of her shrill voice pierced his ears, interrupting you. Rude.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head, presumably trying to explain that whatever she wanted from you, you couldn't do, because you were of course on your break. Ms Karen didn't like that one bit, and her voice raised even more, even going so far as to jab at your chest with clear intention to point out your attire.

The following events happened so fast that you don't think you could have explained it if you tried. One second, you were getting talked down by possibly the most unpleasant patron you'd ever encountered. There was a tightness in your chest that hadn't been there before, and you felt your eyes well up even as you pushed them back with everything you could. The next, there was a blur of orange behind her shoulder and you watched as the very face of the franchise approached. There wasn't much room for expression on Freddy's face, being a robot and such, but you could tell he was not happy.

"Excuse me," he spoke, and you didn't miss the absence of any sort of "ma'am" or "miss" in his wording. "Is there a reason you're harassing a staff member on their break?" Straight to the point. The woman turned, clearly expecting to see a human she could unleash her venom onto, and she stopped in her tracks, taken aback by the idea of being confronted by a robot of all things. She started speaking, then cut herself off, before taking a second to compose herself.

"This employee," and she wrinkled her nose at the word, "just refused to show my children to the arcade," she huffed. Freddy gave you a look now that the woman's back was to you, eyes softening, and you quickly took a moment to wipe your eyes and catch your breath. You hadn't quite tipped over the edge into a panic attack, but it had been close.

"That is because they are on their break, and even if they weren't, taking care of your children is not their job." Back to addressing her, any sort of softness he'd shown you had vanished. He was being perfectly polite, using a matter-of-fact tone, but you could tell from his bluntness that he was mad. "They clearly weren't doing anything, though!" the woman protested, and if he could roll his eyes, you knew Freddy would have. He knew just as well as you that you'd been walking on the way to get your lunch.

"May I remind you," (and there was a definite pointed threat behind the politeness in his voice), "that parents are not to leave children under 13 unattended in the Pizzaplex. Any guardian found doing so will be prosecuted for child abandonment and asked to leave. It was in the entrance waiver you signed." Her kids were definitely not above the age of 10, and while you hardly believe that what Freddy was saying was actually a completely legal clause (or even one that was in the rules of the establishment), you knew for a fact that the woman had signed the waiver to get into the Pizzaplex without reading it.

She knew that too and froze. Then, without giving you a second glance, she turned and tugged her children away, mumbling about how "people don't understand how hard it is to be a mother of two boys," and "couldn't she have just a moment to herself.

As soon as she was gone, Freddy was back to his usual comforting self, taking your hand and guiding you out of the main atrium without a word. As soon as you were out of the public eye, you squeezed his hand and he turned to face you.

"Are you alright?" He moved to hold your shoulders, searching your face with worry. You nodded, although now that the situation was over you sagged slightly, exhaustion peeking through now the panic was gone.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you sighed, "I should've known better than to walk near her when everyone was already complaining about how she talked to people."

"That is not your fault," he admonished, although there was no harshness behind it. He pulled you into a hug, his arms around you helping you ground yourself back to normal. He waited until you were ready to pull back, and if it took longer than the "normal" time for a hug, he didn't complain. Soon, you were back to your regular self enough to joke.

"Y'know, her face, when she saw it was you talking to her, was priceless," you smiled, even if it was still weak. "I bet she never expected that she was going to get told off by Freddy Fazbear himself."

Freddy just chuckled, a sheepish sound even with his confidence. "I don't like telling off patrons, but she deserved it." You slipped out of his arms, brushing yourself off and catching a glimpse of your face in a glass surface nearby. Although your eyes were still red-rimmed, you'd managed to hold back the tears pretty well, and you didn't quite look as shell-shocked.

"Yeah, she did."

Sun and Moon |✧˖*°࿐ . . .

Since you started helping Sun in the Daycare, you've seen your fair share of... shall we say, stressed parents. Mostly, the kind of people who dropped their kids off at the Pizzaplex were the kind who worked all day or just those who had the money to pawn their kids off to someone else. You didn't complain, of course - it's good that kids had a place to come and play and learn formative skills, and Sun was an absolute angel with them all.

You noticed quickly, however, that people seemed to unanimously prefer talking to you over the Daycare Attendant, even though you were new. Some of them had even said to you, in hushed tones, that they were "so glad an actual person was making sure their kids were safe." To which you'd politely responded that Sun was fitted out with the most state-of-the-art security measures, and if anything was to happen, he would be more than capable of protecting the kids. Most accepted it, or at least stopped trying to bad-mouth them to you, sensing you didn't share their views, but one such parent did not get the hint.

It was the father of one of the little girls who spent a lot of time in the Daycare, and as he waited by the security desk for Sun to bring his daughter over, he expressed the usual sceptical sentiment to you. You responded, as usual, expecting the conversation to be over, but instead, he just huffed, eyeing you with a disdain you hadn't expected.

"You're just saying that because it does your job for you, though." He scoffed, not letting you get a word in before he continued. "Not everyone's hardworking, I get it, and it's so easy to sit and let these machines do all the work."

"Sir-" you started but were quickly interrupted.

"I just don't understand why you'd work in childcare if you're going to put those children in danger every single day. I'd quit if I were you." Even if they were untrue, the words cut deep. Is this what the parents thought of you? And why was he saying it as if it was your fault Sun existed?

Before you could even respond, you were saved by Sun skipping over, the man's child in tow. He didn't even respond to the Attendant's polite small talk, just giving you a dirty look and leading his daughter out of the Daycare. Sun turned to you, seemingly confused before they spotted your face.

"Sunshine, are you okay?"

You hadn't realised, but you'd been stuck shell-shocked for the past few seconds. You looked up at him, eyes wide before you shook your head.

"I think I just got called bad at my job."

The way he'd said it, so matter of fact, had surprisingly shaken you, and Sun watched with growing concern as you explained the conversation. When you finished, they quickly pulled you into a hug, a murmur of "Oh dear," accompanying his embrace. They pulled back after a second, studying your face and saying your name in a way that suggested they were very serious for once.

"Please listen to me. That man has no idea what he's talking about," Sun said, pausing to make sure you understood. "All of the kids love you, some even more than me!" You let out a weak laugh at that - it's true that some of the children had recently latched onto you, and it brought you a little bit back to yourself.

"I think..." you started, unsure of how to word what you were thinking. "I'm more upset that he thought you were dangerous."

"He's not entirely wrong," Sun commented, "Moon is ready to do some very bad things if they see him." Despite there being no semblance of a joke, you laugh anyway. Leaning your head into their chest, you relax as much as you can. While it'll take more than an insult to completely rock your confidence, you're still hurt at the idea that the parents you talk to so casually could turn on you that quick. Still, Sun doesn't say any more about it and you think that you've moved on.

The same cannot be said for Moon.

When the Daycare lights go off, you feel a shadow immediately.

"Hi Moon," you greet the other side of the Daycare Attendant, but something feels wrong.

"You're still bothered by that man," he says. It's not a question.

You sigh, pivoting to face the animatronic in the dark. "Sometimes, people say things that are cruel. We move on from it, but it doesn't mean they don't hurt still."

"It's not true."

"I know, Moon. I know." You know they're trying to help in their own way, and as you turn to finish tidying the security desk (the only source of light in the room beside Moon's eyes) he leans himself across you, pulling you back into their chest. He's comforting you, in his own weird way, and you resign yourself to the fact that the so-called "dangerous one" out of him and Sun is going to be extremely clingy until they are sure you're not upset anymore.

[nipuni]

Some various lighthearted life updates 🏃‍♀️

It's been a very busy last few months! in a good way mostly. We had a friend visiting us from overseas so we showed him around the city and took him to all our favourite places. We also met new people and were invited to a bunch of events so it's been very fun! We are all out of social battery tho so now we are slowing down a bit and getting back to work. Nicolas is on a short work trip to Berlin and I'm back to painting. We also started running! aaand we are also back to watching a bunch of shows and to me talking about it here to like five people 😌

Under the cut cause it's a lot as usual!

We finished watching S13 of Doctor Who! (we still have the specials to go but after that we are all caught up!) I haven't updated in ages so here are lot of opinions!

We really did not enjoy S11 😞 I was aware it wasn't very popular but we were hoping it was for all the wrong reasons, sadly we found many to be valid. Some of the episodes were baffling, Rosa? Kerblam?! the writing of the whole season in general felt like a rushed school assignment. The first part of Spyfall was a strong start for the next season but that ending in the second part was really not it. We did love Sacha Dhawan's Master tho!! and we really love Jodie too, 13th is adorable and reminded us of Ten at times! Jodie is such a fantastic actress that it makes the quality of the writing and everything else around her even more frustrating 😫 S12 was an improvement in general. In the last few episodes It felt like the writing team suddenly remembered the companions could have a personality and agency lmao. Highlights for us were Spyfall one, Fugitive of the Judoon and Haunting of villa Diodati, tho we did also enjoy most other episodes of the season despite their issues.

The timeless child plot reveal felt a bit underwhelming? The idea on itself has potential but it felt mishandled (and it had a bit of a Moffat flavour to it? and not in a good way). I think it was meant to add more depth to the Doctor's lore but in a way it ends up having the opposite effect. Then the flux was just a complete mess. It read like a Marvel sort of plot, very comic book like which is alright I suppose if that is something you enjoy but it felt out of place. But mostly it was just way too much, it got out of hand. Anyway we still have the specials to watch! and I think the Master is in them so we are looking forward to it 🥰

We also watched Broadchurch!! and we LOVED it. We ended up binging all three seasons. Chibnall's writing on this is surprisingly great and Jodie's acting is spectacular she really shines here. Olivia and David are always brilliant!! honestly everyone's acting was amazing. This series had us both tearing up every five scenes. The direction and the music are outstanding. I could watch Hardy and Miller solve crimes forever I really love their chemistry and dynamic. We went into it expecting the usual detective fiction but it ended up being a whole study on grief with such a focus on family and community and trauma and a ton of touching interconnected character arcs, just really really good!!

Then we also watched Taking over the Asylum!! MAN we were not expecting to have our hearts wrung out like laundry by this!! We thought it was a lighthearted show!! GOD we are still not over it, what the fuck!! It was so good we loved it!! but we were not prepared lmao what do you mean 'the end'?? we'll be thinking of this for months, I was expecting an extra scene after the credits or something. Excellent characters, refreshing depictions of mental illness and trauma and so crushingly realistic. Every character is so loveable I really wish this was longer 😭

And our quest to watch everything with David Tennant on it continues. We watched Decoy Bride on Valentines day too and it was terrible but such a hilarious fever dream kind of bad that it was fun, it has David on it and he never disappoints. I feel so lucky that Nicolas and I are both in love with him, get yourself a man who shares your celebrity crushes lmao it's so fun!! We feel like teens again chatting about him and drawing little hearts next to his pictures haha 🥰 We watched the BAFTAs just for him and speaking of the baftas!! I was not expecting that last drawing of his outfits to get that much attention oh my god 😭 thank you!! you are all insane and I appreciate it so much!! and thank you for all the support in general, about my art and photos and just everything. I feel very lucky and grateful 😭 anyway I'll end this before I get sappy, that is all for now! I hope this week is kind to you all, I'll be sharing some more art soon 😊

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

You lived out your years at Hogwarts with the company of your best friends, Lily Evans and Alice Fortescue. You fell in love with one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius Black. After school, you married and became Mrs Black, living in a home full of love and life with your faithful husband. Your happy life is cut short when Sirius is wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and several muggles, and sent straight to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry thinks you must be connected, but after several days of investigation and questioning, litres of veritaserum pumped thrown down your throat, you're proven innocent. You have maintained his innocence ever since, knowing Sirius would never do something like that. The only person who'll hire you is Albus Dumbledore, and with his help your name is reverted to its maiden and your past is buried deep.

This story follows your life during your time as a professor at Hogwarts when Harry Potter joins the school and everything changes.

FULL of angst but has a happy ending.

No use of Y/N

This fic is mostly a collection of moments and scenes! So a lot of time skips.

p.s. title is from the song "I Love You" by Fontaines D.C. — one of my favourite bands!! would so so recommend checking them out :)

CHAPTER ONE (see full series list here)

1991

You glance at your watch, the hand ticking slowly as it moves to show 9:03 p.m.

Finally, the large wooden door opens and a scrawny young boy pushes forward, huffing tiredly, and less than 20 odd first-year students filter into the astronomy tower.

"Evening, everyone!" You say cheerfully. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stand awkwardly as they gaze around the room in wonderment.

You feel proud of it. The last astronomy professor had left this room a little...boring, so when you came into employment you spruced it up a little bit. Though there aren't many to write on, each wall is plastered in hand-painted constellations with their names in 5 languages written underneath. You had cast a spell on the floor to conjure up a moon, one that matched the real one's lunar phases. Today, a waxing gibbous.

Telescopes line the edges of the circular room, each pointing high into the sky. You eye your favourite for a moment, the same telescope you'd used during your own years as a student at Hogwarts.

It feels like home in this room.

"Welcome to the Astronomy Tower," you say with a smile. "Here, you'll learn all about the wonders of our universe and its planets, galaxies, stars...everything. Please, find a telescope and stand behind it. We'll start with charting some simple constellations today."

The students obediently line behind a telescope each. Your eyes immediately focus on a young boy, with jet black hair and circular glasses. You lose your train of thought for a moment, feeling as though you're looking at a ghost.

He's the very image of James Potter.

Then, he turns to look at you and his eyes strike you. Green and vibrant, full of youth and gentleness.

Lily.

You feel your breath catch in your throat, but quickly shake your head of the grief and clap you hands, smiling at the students again.

"Astronomy is one of the very few subjects that is present in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That means that there are millions of resources out there for all of you to use, whether it be from a wizarding standpoint or a muggle one! Interesting stuff," you continue. "Now, I want you all to do a small task for me. Look through your telescope — please don't change any lenses just yet — and try and see if you can spot a constellation. Then, using the first page of your book, see if you can figure out which constellation it is. Call me over when you think you have one!"

The students immediately start rooting through their bags for their Astronomy textbooks and you sigh gently, content with your introduction. First-years are always well interested and curious about everything, so Astronomy is a pretty easy subject for them to get into. After all, lots of the first year curriculum is just looking at pretty stars and constellations.

"Professor, I think I have one!" A young Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair and an excited face says to you, throwing her hand in the air enthusiastically.

You smile, walking over to her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger, professor."

"And what constellation do you think you've found?"

"Aquila, professor," she beams, pointing a finger to the small, 'T' shaped constellation in her book.

You close one eye and look through her telescope, noticing it immediately.

You grin at her. "Well spotted, Miss Granger! Excellent work." You glance at her scarlet and gold tie. "5 points to Gryffindor for being the first one!"

Her face lights up proudly.

"Now, let's see if you can find any of the stars present in it. Any at all, though you may find it difficult to differentiate — "

"The star of Altair, professor!"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle in surprise. "Well, aren't you just making my job a whole lot easier for me? Well done, Miss Granger. Please chart that constellation down on some parchment and continue looking."

In the next few minutes, many students find constellations and are charting them down. One boy seems to be having a particularly difficult time.

"Neville Longbottom, isn't it?" You say as you wander up to him. He jumps at the sound of your voice, knocking his forehead against the edge of his telescope and letting out a small yelp of pain. "Oh, sorry..." You wave your wand gently and his eyebrows raise, bringing a hand to his forehead in surprise.

"Just a small healing spell. For minor, minor injuries," you tell him. "How is your charting going?"

The boy's cheeks go red and his eyes focus on the floor beneath him. "I...haven't been able to find one, professor. I — I thought I had one ages ago, but there were too many stars in it..."

"Let me have a look, Mr Longbottom," you say kindly, bringing your eye up to the lens and grinning. "Well, you most definitely have found one. One I didn't think anyone would find!"

You glance at Neville's face, and he's the picture of shock.

"Pisces, Mr Longbottom. Trust your judgement! Excellent work."

Neville grins, and you step aside, but not before he says something else.

"Uh, professor..."

"Yes?"

"How do...how do you know my name?"

You study his face and smile again. The very picture of Frank Longbottom. With Alice Fortescue's mousy hair.

"I went to school with your parents, Mr Longbottom. You're the spitting image of your father."

Next, the young boy with jet black hair and glasses calls you over. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"What one have you found, Mr Potter?"

As he looks at you, green eyes connecting with your own, you try your hardest not to see Lily staring back at you. You try your hardest not to picture your best friend, your honourary sister, a woman of true light in a world full of darkness.

Your heart has felt lonely since her absence. Since James. Since Alice. Since Frank. Since Peter.

You blink.

"Uh, Canis Major, I think?"

You swallow hard. Of course.

"Let me have a look see..." He's right of course, you don't even need to look. You can spot that constellation any night without a telescope. You know it like the back of your hand. "You're dead right, Mr Potter. Brilliant constellation, that is. Canis Major means 'the Great Dog', and it actually contains the brightest star in the night sky visible to our naked eye, Si — "

"Oh, wait, hold on..." Harry says, flicking through his book to find the page on Canis Major. He pauses, eyes skimming down the page. "Uh, Sirius, right?"

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mr Potter. Sirius."

Your favourite star.

Your favourite person.

Your heart has been broken since his absence.

"Good work." You promptly spin on your heel, heading for your desk as you glance down at your watch. "Alright, everyone. Excellent work today! Now, I won't set anyone any written homework...but if you're truly interested and find you have a little free time, try and see if you can chart any other constellations! Night, everyone."

The students chat animatedly amongst themselves and exit down the spiral stairs, leaving you alone in the room. You sit down at your desk, sighing as you slip a key from your pocket and open one of the drawers. You pull out a small photograph, eyes wandering over the young, elated faces of James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, and yourself.

Graduation day.

One the left, you're standing in the middle of Alice and Lily, arms around them and laughing wholeheartedly. James stands beside Lily, arms around her and Sirius beside him, who's connected with Remus, Peter, and Frank.

You smile weakly. You remember that day, all full of hope and joy. There was some sadness too, sadness to be leaving Hogwarts and ultimately leaving childhood.

Your fingers gently skim over Sirius' face, feeling your heart ache.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that day.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Dear Moony,

I hope you're well! School's started back up again. Been a bit crazy lately, sorry that I haven't written since your last letter. Someone let a troll into the dungeon. Quirrell went mad, fainted in the middle of dinner and set all the students into a panic. It was torture.

Harry's started here. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He's the image of James. It's uncanny. He has Lily's eyes, too. Sometimes I start to feel like I can talk to them through him, even though I know that's mad of me. Neville Longbottom's here too. He's just like his parents. Both in Gryffindor, you'll be happy to know.

Dumbledore's gave me strict instructions not to say a word to Harry about it all. Says it'll be too much for him. He won't be able to understand why I couldn't have raised him instead of the Dursleys. He says that Harry will only start digging around for more information on me if he finds out I'm his godmother. He'd ask about his godfather then. It's too much for a young boy to know that his godfather is in Azkaban.

I wanted to talk to him so bad, Remus. I want to tell him about his parents, show him the photos. I want him to be able to feel at home here, feel like he's got someone here. A part of his family. I know exactly what those Dursleys are like. Petunia always hated James, you know that well enough. I hate that I have to keep this secret for even longer.

I talked to young Neville though. Merlin, he has Alice's clumsiness, that's for sure. Such a sweet lad. He was more than happy to see photos of the two and hear stories about them. I feel like a little bit of the weight that's been hanging over me has been lifted. I even showed him that photo of Alice falling into the Black Lake in 5th Year. If she was of sound mind she'd surely throttle me for that.

I think I need to get out of the castle for a bit. Wanna get a coffee? It's been a while.

I've omitted a few details of the past few weeks so I have something interesting to tell you about next weekend, if you're up for it.

all my love,

You sign the letter, folding up the parchment gently and dropping it in an envelope. You grab your bland wax stamper and press a small circle of black wax over the envelope's seal. You slip it into your pocket and stand up from your bed. Beside you, your black cat, Dubh*, stirs from her sleep and meowls at you.

You give her a loving scratch behind the ears. "Just popping down to the owlery. I'll be back."

On your way down to the owlery, you pass two lanky, identical students with heads full of ginger hair. They haven't noticed you yet. They're peering around the corner at Filch, a suspicious-looking bag in one of their hands.

"Bit late for the two of you to be out, isn't it?" You whisper behind them. They wheel around immediately and their eyes widen in shock.

"Professor! We — uh, we weren't doing anything!" George blurts out.

"Don't you look just lovely tonight, Professor? There is such a...healthy glow about you," Fred remarks suavely and you raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"I sincerely hope you don't think I'm that thick, Mr Weasley."

"Never, Professor!"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Off to bed, both of you. Quickly, before Filch can catch you. I advise you to keep your pranks within the time you're actually allowed out of bed."

Fred's shoulders slump in disappointment, his want for a good prank evident on his face. George however, is staring at you in surprise.

"No detention?"

Fred immediately smacks his hand over the back of George's head, scowling at him. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Get going, you two."

They take it this time, quickly scampering down the hallway. You step out from it, into the same one as Filch, who's eyeing you suspiciously.

"Is someone there?"

"Only me, Mr Filch," you answer.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Just me. I was trying to remember a poem I heard recently, it's three pages long. Would you like to hear it?"

Filch's face contorts immediately. "No."

You shrug. "Suit yourself."

You walk past him and out into the cold night air, trying to suppress the smile on your face.

->-> read chapter two here!

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

*Dubh: pronounced 'duv'. Irish word for 'black'.

→ all types of interaction appreciated ♡

[mrwavellswaps]

The Last Time of Many

My boyfriend Simon and I had hired a painter to come and to come re-paint the walls of our apartment. He was very punctual, arriving perfectly on time and getting straight to work with no hassle. My guess was that it was because he was part of a small and new family business so they needed to make good impressions.

I watched as he tapped up any edges that wouldn’t want painting over before pulling out his painting gear and cracking opened the tin of white paint. But I wasn’t focused on how good of a job he was doing. How could I be when my eyes were glued to those biceps! Watching how they stretched the sleeves of his shirt. The same shirt that was tight enough to show off his modest pecs and that, undoubtedly hairy, belly that were hiding underneath. Not to mention those blue shorts which left very little to the imagination.

It seemed my boyfriend was thinking the same thing as he blurted out. “Now that’s a great ass!” Fortunately for us, the painter was none the wiser as Simon could only be seen and heard by me. It was a long story but a few years back he’d gotten himself turned into a ghost after messing with some weird magic ritual shit. At first we weren’t exactly sure what to do or how we’d continue being together if we couldn’t touch or even talk in public without me looking insane. That is until Simon discovered a new ability that his ghostly form had granted.

I gave Simon a look but naturally I couldn’t say anything. Thankfully I didn’t need to. An almost sinister grin spread across Simon’s face upon seeing me glance between him and the burly man a few times. We’d done this enough times for him to know exactly what I was signalling. “Mmmm you don’t need to tell me twice babe.”

The painter, who’s name was John, was blissfully unaware as he simply did the job he was hired to do. Gliding the paint roller back and forth across the wall as Simon crept up behind him. He walked around the man for a minute or so like a predator scanning it’s prey. “Ohhh yeah. This’ll do nicely.” He stated as his gaze fixated momentarily on the bulge in the front of John’s shorts.

“Hey uhh…You know where that draft is coming fro-OOOOMMMMHHHAA…” John was swiftly cut off as Simon started pushing himself inside the gentle giant’s body from behind. That was always his favourite way to do it. I’d seen it happen so many times now. Simon says it’s because entering from behind makes it feel like you’re slipping into a costume but in the best way possible.

“WHAATT THE FUUUCCKKK!…” John managed to roar as Simon began his takeover. Slowly pressing his smaller invisible body inside John’s much larger frame. Gradually filling out John’s limbs with his own spirit and taking control of them one by one. Those thick legs were first on the list so Simon could stop John from falling in all the panic. Next were those strong arms as they suddenly stopped flailing around, instead stretching out to the sides for a moment as if Simon where putting them on like a jacket. After that was Simon’s favourite part. He thrust his ghostly hips and with one mighty slam he found his ghost cock filling out John’s fat fleshy one and causing an instant hard-on to tent the front of John’s shorts. Once that was done he felt himself settling comfortably into his new ass and torso before finally pushing his head inside, silencing Johns groans at last as Simon took the drivers seat…

“How does he feel Simon?” I asked as I watched the man before me stretch his neck a little before looking down at himself with a lustful smirk. Without even saying a word he yanked off John’s shirt and tossed it at me. I would’ve stopped to give it a sniff if I wasn’t so focused on the show in front of me. A show I’d seen many times before with many different men. Simon pinching, groping and smelling his newly acquired form. Feeling it out and getting used to all its unique sensations.

“Fucking amazing!” He finally replied. “So tall and thick. Nice and hairy. Great beard. Not to mention a fat cock by the feel of it.” He reached down and gripped the obscene bulge, shaking it a little to tease me. And by god did it work as I felt my already tight pants growing even tighter. “Annnnd just before I forget…” He swiped up Johns phone before marching over to the mirror and taking a hot picture of his new stolen body.

“Now sending that to you. Don’t forget to add it to the folder of dudes I’ve possessed.”

“Will do… but first how about you get over here and prove to me just how fat that cock is big guy.” I winked and I certainly didn’t need to tell him twice. Simon marched towards me with heavy footsteps as he adjusted to his new weight. However it didn’t take long for him to grab ahold of me and press me against the wall before mashing our lips together. The scent of John’s pine scented deodorant mixed with a faint manly musk perforating my nostrils. Feeling his bulge pressing against mine. Fuck… it was making knees weak. I loved it when he got so dominant like this. Though it wasn’t surprising considering how he towered over me in this body.

When the two of us finally parted, our eyes made contact once again. Even though they were Johns eyes I could still tell that it was my boyfriend behind them, staring back at me lovingly. “So. How long do you think we should keep this hunk?” He asked while taking a hold of my hands and guiding them across his new body. “A day? A week?…” He leaned in a little closer. “Forever?…” Needless to say I was surprised to hear that.

“Forever? Do really think that would be possible?” I asked, not quite sure what to make of such a hypothetical.

“Why not? I’ve never had any trouble keeping control of a body before. Plus I always wished I could’ve been a bigger dude like John here when I was alive.” Simon explained while sliding my hands up towards his furry chest where he encouraged me to knead his soft pecs a little. “Think about it. Wouldn’t it be nice for us to just live normally again rather than me jumping from man to man. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love possessing dudes but I also love just being alive with you and actually seen by everyone.”

I didn’t really know what to say. On one hand it seemed like a pretty big decision. To just hijack a whole new life permanently. But then again the thought of Simon living out the rest of his days with me as this big lovable bearish hunk was certainly appealing to say the least.

“Hey we don’t have to decide now. I know there’s a lot of complicated shit we’d have to deal with like this dudes wife and family. So for now let’s just have some fun and talk about it more later yeah?” He smiled before kissing me again, softer this time. Sure it seemed crazy but the more I thought about it, the more I think all that hassle would be worth dealing with if it meant waking up to that adorable bearded mug every morning.

“But maybe as a test run you could try calling me John instead of Simon as we fuck.” He chuckled before pulling me along towards the stairs. As I followed behind him I couldn’t help but stare at that amazing new bubbly ass he’d inherited. Practically jiggling with every step he took. God I hoped he was gonna let me mount that…

[writer-by-the-sea]

Can I ask for a gender neutral drabble request about farmer feeling insecure and asking Elliott if he thinks they’re sexy and he admits to thinking about them when he touches himself? 🥺

“Have you ever just felt so unattractive that you don’t even think a turtle would be interested in you?”

Elliot startled beside me, I forgot that we hadn’t spoken in a few minutes… Or was it more than an hour now? I wasn’t sure. We would often hang out at the beach together after Elliott finished his yoga for the day. I’ve even joined him a few times, but honestly I stretch enough getting eggs out from under the chickens little bums that I couldn’t bare to do one more damn ‘triangle downward pose’ even if I wanted to.

“In your defense,” Elliot began. “I don’t believe turtles can be sexually attracted to humans.”

I snorted. Of course he would reply with the facts. And it was a silly question to begin with, the man looked like a bronze god sitting next to me. Shirtless and wearing those god damn red shorts that have me drooling in my sleep. “Never mind,” I replied with a laugh. “It was a dumb question—“

“No, it wasn’t.” Elliott’s voice was firm as he stared at me, his frown actually making me feel bad for even asking. “And, for the record, you’re very good looking.”

Um.

What?

I said nothing and just stared back at him, his eyes soft and caring as he gazed back at me. He had a single elbow propped on his knee, smiling now as he watched me— waiting for me to say something, anything in reply.

“I think about you,” Elliot said before I could manage to mumble out literally anything. “As in, when I’m in bed, or in the shower…” He paused, pressing his lips together as he thought to himself. “In the bathroom at the pub once, it was the day you walked in after being at the mines and the monsters tore half your clothes off...”

Hang on.

WHAT.

I held my hand up, stopping him from continuing and shook my head as I tried to process what the hell he was saying. He thought of me? In the shower? In bed? At the pub? What the hell did that even mean—

“I cum so easily when I think of you.”

Well there’s my answer.

Elliott was so relaxed as he spoke, shrugging after he just dropped a bomb on me as if it was nothing at all. “You’re very good looking, I never saw myself fantasying about the only farmer in town. However, it’s become a daily event now.”

“Elliott,” I paused. How does one even reply to this? Sure, the question I asked may have been a been asinine— but! To reply, and to reply so causally. “Ar you— are you saying to jerk off to me?”

“Everyday, yes.”

I dropped myself into the sand, uncaring anymore about the hot sand as it burned the back of my neck and arms, my hair was going to be a real bitch to wash later but I couldn’t even think about that right now. Elliott, the hottest guy in town, who writes poems and short stories with ease, who does yoga on the beach, who laughs with me at Gus’ pub, who is actually a dork that’s obsessed with Star Wars—

Jerks off to me.

Every. Single. Day.

Elliott laid down beside me on his side, worry painted all over his gorgeous face. “Farmer? Do you want me to stop?”

I laughed, just amazed at the entire situation. “No, you don’t… no.”

“Thank goodness,” Elliot said with a sigh and rolled to his back. “I don’t think I would have been able to stop. Especially after today.”

“Elliott,” I said and sat up, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “What on earth would have happened today that would make it any harder to stop?”

“Well—“

I gestured down to myself. “I stink like chickens, my jeans were so beat up I cut them into shorts, I’m wearing an old hole filled white tank top— none of this,” I took a beat to gesture to myself one again. “Would give you the material needed to jerk off to.”

“Your shirt is absolutely soaked from the swim you took earlier, I can see your nipples.”

….

I looked down and groaned. “Elliot!”

“They’re very sexy nipples.”

And I could die.